Strings Of Silence: Book Four
by Cierah
Summary: Sequel to Growing Up: The twins again, what else. Something evil grows, the land feels it, what happens when devastation visits the peaceful city of Rivendell? Repost Complete
1. Prologue

**Prologue Shattering Souls**

All song had stopped. A string had been broken, and the Ainulindale paused momentarily. All turned their heads at the shattering sounds that rang through the halls on the dawning of the day. Their hearts wrenched at the grief and despair that littered the sky turning their song black.

He turned away from the window drawing in a deep breath, his wife at his side always. Together they walked down the white and blue halls towards the end where they were to inform their charges of this grief. The halls of Mandos would soon fill. Long had it stood empty, but no longer, a severed string was not easily repaired.

Taniquetil was silent, all life stopped briefly as they walked. He raised his hand to issue song once more, and all bade to his command. With Ainulindale restored, life proceeded. With a shattering cry, the halls began to fill with despair. It would prove to be the first in many accounts of evil.

Melkor had once again risen.

Ainulindale means The Music of the Ainur. Taniquetil are the mountains that guarded Valinor from Melkor, in the time after the destruction of the Two Trees. This prologue takes place in Valinor with Manwe and his wife Varda.


	2. Devastation Strikes

**Chapter One Devastation Strikes **

Elrond sat back and rubbed his eyes wearily. He was still suffering the after effects of the festival last week. Shaking his head slightly, he couldn't believe his audacity to smoke from his old friend's pipe. He knew what it did to him, what it did to the elves, but still he had smoked it. Mithrandir knew how to coerce him into doing particular things that were bad for elves.

Chuckling, he remembered how the twins had reacted to Mithrandir. On their first entrance to the breakfast table, they had practically squeaked and raced from the room in terror. When they had entered for lunch, it had gone no better, but when they saw him sitting at the dinner table, Elladan had put both his hands on his hips and declared that when the _furry monster_ was gone they would come back to the table, but until then they were having dinner in their rooms. With a quick stomp of his foot and a sniff they had strolled calmly from the dining room and shut the door solidly behind them.

Had Elrond not seen the wine fly out of Mithrandir's nose, he would have scolded his children for their behaviour, but instead he found himself choking on his own wine stifling the laugh that threatened to surface.

He snorted unelven like at the thought again and once again rubbed his eyes. Lately they had made themselves scarce, and had found some hideout where they were content with each other's company. Unknown to them, Mithrandir was staying for a few months to help with the rebuilding of the left wing of his home. It had been sketched and laid out as a new guest wing. Elrond smiled, glancing down at his paperwork and stood stretching. Looking out the window he noticed the sun was cresting over the horizon, and he still had to prepare for Thranduil's arrival. It had been a full year since their son Erysyn had been born, and now that Thranduil's wife was with child once again, Elrond had decided that it had been too long since he had seen his old friend.

Dejectedly he knew the guesthouse would not be ready for when they arrived, but the summer would bring the job to a finish. Thranduil had sent a messenger informing them of the visit and now Elrond was excited. He stretched again and wandered out of his study to find his wife who had no doubt begun the preparations herself. Chuckling to himself he shook his head knowingly, it had been far too long since the ladies had seen each other and he knew they had plans of their own.

* * *

Elrohir walked up the stairs his arms full of breakfast breads, cheese, and a large jug of milk that he had slipped easily out of the kitchens. There was no way he was going to run into that grey furry guy again. He was disappointed that his father would bring a beast such as that to their home and have him sleep only feet away from he and his brother's room. Shuddering, he stepped over the door to the balcony and noticed his brother there already placing a blanket and pillows around.

"Hi, Ella." Elrohir greeted cheerfully. The sun had not quite risen and the boys were now ready to make their camp. They had decided the night before that they were not going to sleep in their rooms until the furry monster had gone. Their rooms smelled funny ever since he had moved in. Elrohir had come to the conclusion that it was the stick he puffed on. Although he couldn't understand why anyone would puff on a branch.

"Did you get the food?" Elladan asked waving to his brother. Satisfied with a nod, Elladan spread out the blanket smoothing out the wrinkles and kneeling on it happily.

Elrohir knelt down beside him and placed their treasures onto the blanket. "I didn't bring the cups, because I did not have enough hands." He shrugged laying out the bread and cheese.

"It is alright, we can use the jug. Or make something. Did you get the dagger?" Elladan asked curiously.

Elrohir snorted. "Of course. It was not easy stealing into Figwit's room, but I got it."

Elladan nodded satisfied. He reached out his hand and tore off a piece of bread. "Did you grab the honey?"

Elrohir frowned shaking his head. "The cook was using it, I will go back later."

Elladan nodded again and both boys sat back happily eating their breakfast waiting for the sun to rise.

* * *

Galathil opened the door to his small cottage and sniffed the air. It was going to be a beautiful day. Satedly he sat down on his bench and sipped at his coffee waiting for the day to begin. He still had an hour to ready himself for his first lesson. The twin's had improved in the year they had joined his lessons, and he felt himself feel the pride that a father would. They were surely a surprise everyday they joined him. Elrohir was proving to be an outstanding bowman; with skill even his intermediate class did not have yet. Elladan was learning the skills of the sword much faster then his brother, but fell behind with the bow. Galathil already knew that Elrohir had made his preferred weapon known, but refused to give up on the swords.

Sighing in contentment, he leaned back and drew his feet up. His advanced class was first, and went to intermediate to beginners to novice to junior. He knew why Elrond had chosen that particular order, for it gave the children time to play throughout the day and settle down for their lesson's in the late afternoon.

Sighing again, he stood up and took the last sip off his coffee, then headed inside to ready himself for his long day. The sun was soon rising, and would crest over the horizon in due time.

* * *

Elrond burst into laughter at his wife's dishevelled appearance. "You look as if a great gust of wind knocked you down love."

"Elrond, be quiet before I have you picking flowers out in the garden for our guests."

Elrond pursed his lips thinking. "And prick my fingers on those thorns again? You have got to be kidding?"

"I am not!" She stated with a grin. "Have you ever wondered why the ladies wear garden gloves to pick flowers?"

He shook his head. "I do not spend time in the gardens, love. Remember that is your pleasure."

"Even still, Elrond. I would watch what I say when I am in a mood such as this." She turned around with a pile of towels and grinned from ear to ear. "I would say that on such a lovely day as this, I could even have you wash some clothes in the wash stalls."

He quickly held up his hands and bowed low. "My dear, I will leave you to your chores and I will retreat to my study." Without further hesitation, Elrond backed out of the room.

Sighing in relief, Elrond shook his head. His wife's voice drifted out of the room after him, and he quickly made his escape before she could find him. "Don't stray too far love, I will need your help in the wash stalls later."

Elrond turned the corner and chuckled to himself, he knew his wife would tear a strip out of him later, but he was enjoying the day too much to be stuck indoors all day washing clothes.

He strolled down the corridor peacefully, but stopped quickly when a sense of foreboding entered his soul. Swallowing hard he glanced around for signs of danger and saw none. Confused, he continued down the hall slowly. Suddenly a loud rumble reached his ears, and the ground suddenly shifted underneath him. Knocked off balance, Elrond lost his footing and fell to the ground hard. The earth shifted again, and the sounds of cracking caused him to look up startled.

Just as suddenly as it had started it stopped. He reached out his hand and gripped the windowsill and pulled himself up. Stunned, he turned to head back to the guest chambers where his wife had been, but was knocked off his feet again when the ground shifted violently beneath him. This time it did not stop and he had to grip the tapestry beside him to keep his footing.

Sounds of cracking marble and stone, earned him worry. But when he looked out the window terror gripped his heart painfully as he watched the ground shift and open into great pits. Crevasses opened and sucked trees and plants into them. He heard snapping of the house around him and he scrambled to keep his footing. The ground lurched and shifted. Pieces of debris flew from the ceiling; pillars fell over crashing into the ground. Screams could be heard all over. Knocked off his feet tearing the tapestry down with him, he heard and felt the ground beneath him crack and drop. Crying out startled, he reached out for something to catch himself on, anything that would stop his fall. His fingers found nothing but air. With a startled exclamation, he fell.

* * *

Galathil walked down the green wooded paths that lead to the training fields when the ground shifted beneath him. Baffled at first then alarmed, he cried out when the ground lifted throwing him into the air. He fell back to the earth and cracked his head onto the path startled. He looked up and cried out as a branch broke off and landed right on top of him, not giving him enough time to react. With a sickening crunch, he lay motionless on the gravel while the ground continued to shake around him.

* * *

Elrohir and Elladan sat confused when the balcony groaned beneath them. Suddenly it lurched and caused the boys to grab each other's hands in fear. They attempted to rise, but were thrown back down to the ground when the balcony lifted on one side, the plaster gave way on other side and dropped violently. Elrohir cried out when his feet slipped and he slid towards the corner. "ELLADAN!" He screamed, as he slipped over the edge barely catching the ledge as he fell. His nails bit into the moulding searching for a grip.

"RO!" Elladan fell to his stomach and reached out for his brother's hand, the ground lurched again causing him to slide towards the drop off also. He hooked his foot onto the railing just before he reached the edge, but too late to grab his brother's hand, when the ground shook again forcefully. The last thing he saw right before the pillar fell onto him was his brother's terror filled eyes as he fell from the balcony.


	3. Aftermath and Aftershocks

**Chapter Two Aftermath & Aftershocks **

He tried to open his eyes, but to no avail. There was only darkness. Elrond smelled the staleness of blood but also tasted it on his lips when he flicked his tongue out to moisten them. He coughed when dust hit his face and he tried to rub it away only to come back sticky. Attempting to raise he fell back with a cry when a sharp pain flew up his back. Gingerly, he shifted his weight off his left side, and sighed in relief when he started to feel his arm again.

He used his right arm to feel around him but felt only crumpled rock and debris. He heard shifting and movement causing him to open his one good eye and peer upwards. However he was met with a faceful of dirt as the building above him shifted a bit. Remembering the events from earlier, he sat up and cried out sharply when his back tightened and cracked.

Elrond fell back to the earth and he used his hands to feel for his injuries. He knew that he had a few broken ribs, making his breathing laboured. His arm was badly sprained, and his head throbbed from a large goose egg. He slowly raised himself onto his elbows and glanced down with his good eye and saw the horribly twisted leg. His right leg stood at an odd angle, and he could see the bone protruding from his pants.

Moaning from the bile that rose in his throat, he pushed himself up carefully. Ripping the sleeve off his robes he bound it tightly to his leg above the fracture. With the skill of a healer, he gritted his teeth and shoved his leg into the right position. Once his leg was once again in its rightful place he fell back into the dirt sweating. He coughed as more dust fell into his face, and he lay there wondering what had happened to cause the earth to split.

* * *

Something pushed onto his chest, preventing him from taking in deep breaths. He tried to sit up but he couldn't move. Opening his eyes gingerly, he noticed a large branch holding him to the ground. Stunned into wakefulness, he tried to push himself out from under it, but despite himself he it wouldn't budge. No matter how hard he pushed he couldn't release himself from the trees clutches.

Galathil lay motionless. His chest hurt, and he knew it was from more then just the crushing tree; his ribs were broken. He glanced around him but he couldn't see anything. Just bushes and the tree. Groaning, he tried once again to push himself free but after grunting and growling like a feral animal, he gave up and lay there snarling in frustration.

* * *

He felt as if he were flying. He tilted left and he swung left, but if he moved right it hurt. 'Strange.' He thought to himself. 'Flying shouldn't hurt.' He opened his eyes, and then closed them tightly at the sight that greeted him. Below him there was nothing but air, but further down there was rock, sharp jagged rocks, and the river. He opened his eyes carefully, fearing if he opened them too fast, he would meet the ground. The sound of tearing cloth caused his to lift his head then cry out fearfully as his pant leg slowly gave way on a jagged piece of marble. His whole right side ached, his saw his arm hang limply. He was upside down hanging there carelessly, slowly swinging back and forth. Using his left hand, he tried to reach the rock face beside him but it was too far. He felt jolts of pain run up and down his body when he moved the smallest little bit. He felt tears fill his eyes, as his mind suddenly comprehended what had happened. "RO!" He cried out frantically. He twisted so he faced the sheer rocks below him, searching anxiously for signs of his brother.

"ELROHIR!" He screamed into the air. No answer greeted him. He did not stop searching with his eyes, just dangled there. Another rip caused him to catch his breath nervously. "Ro." He whispered breathlessly. "Oh, please answer me. Ada! Nana!" He whispered, tears falling onto his forehead. He sniffled, but remained still as another rip caused his skin to crawl with fright.

* * *

He crawled out of the crumpled stables pushing aside broken wood, and pieces of rock. He glanced up and caught his breath sharply. His heart lunged painfully at the sight that met his eyes. Everything lay in ruins. The great house, he closed his eyes. "No." He whispered. Limping against the gash on his leg, he headed towards the Last Homely House. Pausing beside a slab of stone, he felt his heart lurch into his throat. Swallowing against the tears that threatened to emerge, he knelt and felt for a pulse on the small neck. There was none. He buried his head in his hands and prayed to the Valar for strength. Finally the tears came, and slipped unnoticed through his fingers into the dirt.

He was there the day his friend gave birth, and now this small child's fae was in the halls of Mandos. The loss of her child would bring grief to the family, and tear apart more lives, if they lived. Getting to his feet slowly, he proceeded towards the house, choking on his tears as he passed friends, more children, and death.

* * *

Her whole side hurt, she realized that she was lying on a piece of wood and at an odd angle. She turned over and felt the clothing beneath her. She gasped when she saw a pillar that had missed her by inches. The large grey marble slab was by her head. Moaning as she sat up she glanced around her fear gripping her heart. The walls were gone, and the place was a crumpled heap. She quickly scrambled to her feet, slipping on the loose stone and dust.

Celebrian glanced around for signs of her family. The fear that gripped her heart told her to worry but the reason in her mind told her to find them first before all else. She guided her steps carefully, using her hands for support on the broken walls and furniture around her. The ground was uneven, and was missing in places. Finally she found what used to be the doorframe, and stepped over the wooden door. Her slippers slipped on the polished marble, and tore a piece of her dress.

She felt her heart beat wildly at the thought of her children. Grief threatened to rise at the devastation and loss of hope around her, but she shook her head violently. Her family needed her to be strong. Valar, she needed to remain strong. The sound of coughing brought her head around sharply, and she cried out to who ever it was. She breathed in a sigh of relief. She had found someone at least.

She scrambled over to the former hall, and looked down. "Elrond!" She cried into the darkness. His groan and whisper of her name caused her to loose all dignity and she let the tears finally fall.

Her heart leapt into her throat when she was tossed to the side roughly. The ground moved and she cried out as the shaking progressed causing parts of the ground below her to fall. She gripped the iron spear that still hung on its mounts and prevented her to fall, but she felt her heart rip when an agonizing cry from below reached her ears.

"ELROND!"

* * *

The balcony, which he hung from, dropped, and he cried out in terror. His pants ripped more. The ground shook again and he whimpered praying for his Nana to find him. "No more, please." He closed his eyes tightly. "Please stop. Daro." He wimpered.

The balcony shuddered and dropped again. Finally the ground ceased its shaking and he breathed in a sigh of relief. He slowly reached up with his right hand and gripped his leg, if he bent enough he could reach the ledge and maybe pull himself up. His left side was useless, nothing he did to convince it to work helped, so he let that side hang there. Glaring at it as he swung his fingers almost touched the iron rod that was bent below the ledge. Swinging again, his pants finally gave way, and he wrapped his fingers around the ledge as his legs dropped forcefully. His hand slipped and he dropped, the iron rod ripped through his skin, piercing his elbow. Crying out with intense pain, he bit his lip. The rod sliced through his arm right from the elbow and gripped his wrist in a deathlike grasp. He felt his eyes roll back and he lost consciousness.

Grunting from the weight of the tree, Galathil snarled at it. "Move, you son of an ork!" He was tired of the ground shaking, and he wanted to get the weight off him. "GET OFF ME!" He cried. He pushed against the tree, and felt himself move, but barely. Satisfied with his attempts, he continued his manoeuvres.

After wriggling like a fish on dry land, Galathil ceased his movements, sweating from his attempts. He smiled wanly at his progress. At least he had moved an inch from his current position. "Well by tomorrow night I shall have moved half way from below this blasted tree." Galathil growled, and continued to wriggle. Even against the pain and discomfort his chest was giving him, he used his hands to push against the bark, and his feet against the ground. He yelped sharply when his foot snapped from his attempts, he finally gave up.

* * *

Thranduil frowned at the juts in the ground as they proceeded towards Rivendell. 'Strange.' He thought. He stopped his horse and held up his hand signalling everyone to pause. The river before them raged flooding the ground on either side. It did not diminish like every other time they had visited. Shaking his head confused, he slipped off his horse and walked carefully towards the rivers edge. He felt his eyes widen at the ground on the other side of the river.

He shouted to his men and pointed across the river showing them the crevasses and turned earth. "I want you to find another way across Bruinen, I will search in this direction."

"My lord, we will not allow you to proceed on your own."

Thranduil narrowed his eyes at the youthful guard. He smiled inwardly at the nervous swallow. "Must I ask you again?"

The guard quickly shook his head and shouted a command that half of them search left and the others accompany the King to the right.

Thranduil ignored the whispers of his party as he sprinted to the right searching for a way across. Something had happened in Rivendell and he was not looking forward to whatever greeted his eyes when they finally found a way across.


	4. Anxiety and Hope

**Chapter Three Anxiety and Hope **

Elladan opened his eyes and he knew instantly that he shouldn't have. The pain that shot through his body caused him to cry out in desperation. Never in his life had he felt the intensity of this kind of pain. He lifted glazed grey eyes and looked at the offending limb. His arm was the only thing keeping him suspended above the raging river, and sharp protruding rocks far below. Tears fell onto his face as he thought of his brother. There was no connection between them and he felt his body grow cold with fear.

Filled with overwhelming distress, Elladan didn't hear the iron rod creak and groan in protest against the weight of the small elfling. He hung there, both his arms now injured and useless to aid him in saving his life. Without his brother he was sure that life would not be fulfilled. Cautiously he looked below him, searching yet again with his eyes. He blinked rapidly against the tears that filled his eyes, and he choked back a sob. There was nothing he could do even if he had caught sight of his brother. Elrohir was nowhere to be found.

* * *

A shout made him glance up. He had just checked the pulse of yet another elfling, but to no avail. He scrambled to his feet, his face controlled in a mask of stone, and he ran towards the voice. Skidding to a stop beside a large stone pillar, he glanced around him searching with his ears and his eyes.

"Call out again." He shouted into the ruins.

"Here." The soft-spoken voice whispered.

He whirled around startled, and saw nothing. Frowning, he started pushing stone and wood aside throwing them behind him. "I cannot make out where you are." He called.

"Stuck beneath the pillar Figwit!" The voice gasped.

Figwit felt his mouth drop in surprise. He spun around and started digging around the pillar and felt his heart lighten seeing his mentor trapped beneath the large white stone.

"Erestor." He gasped when he saw the dark head. "Are you alright?" He asked.

Erestor groaned. "Do I look alright? I am trapped under a large stone column, laying on rocks and twigs, a rather roaring headache, and my feet hurt." He growled.

Figwit swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. His hands dug around the figure, digging just enough so the elf could be dragged out from beneath it.

Finally free, Erestor sighed. "I can breath." He triumphed. "Who else did you find?"

Speechless, Figwit shook his head, the tears falling down his face once again.

Erestor sat up slowly, frowning. He reached out and clasped the younger elf's shoulder, and bit his lip uncertainly. Figwit sniffed and shook his head again. Finally giving way to his grief and tears and sobbed and laid his head on his mentor's shoulder.

Erestor wrapped his arms around his student and rubbed his back. "Shh, none of that now." He whispered into the young elf's ear. Uncomfortable, Erestor sat there and glanced around him, noticing the devastation. His blue eyes travelled over the ruins, searching for signs of life. "Come dry your tears, there will be time later for them. We must find life." Erestor whispered again. "We must be strong, for the others."

"What others?" Figwit snarled, ashamed that he broke down in front of his teacher. "I have been searching all morning! I have found only death."

Erestor shook his head. "You found me."

Figwit paused and sat up locking his blue eyes with Erestor's. He allowed himself a small smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.

Erestor nodded grinning. "I will be forever grateful for that my young friend."

Figwit nodded and sniffed. He wiped the tears off his face and stood up. "You are right, let us see who else we can find." He lowered his hand and pulled Erestor up.

Hissing in pain, Erestor hunched over briefly, as Figwit held him upright. "I will be fine, just a few cracked ribs, I am guessing."

Once gathering his wits about him, Erestor finally stood straight and both elves went towards the ruins of the Last Homely House.

* * *

Something dug into his side, sending spouts of pain up to his neck. He tried to push away from the offending object, but it seemed to follow him everywhere. He opened his eyes slowly, and realized he was still in his room. Or rather what used to be his room. He gasped when he remembered what had happened, and he sat up quickly. Crying out in pain, he fell back onto the floor.

He used his fingers to pry the stick that dug into his side, and he pulled. It wouldn't come loose. Glancing down, he noticed the stick protruding from his side, halfway embedded in his stomach area. Gritting his teeth, he pulled again, but it still would not budge. Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself up slowly. He wondered what the rest of the house looked like. He hoped that everyone was fine, but deep in his heart he knew that not everyone would live through the devastation.

Once he reached what used to be his door, he gasped. Memories from old resurfaced, and he fell to his knees in shock. Fear gripped his heart, his skin tingled and pain resurfaced. All the memories from an old forgotten past came back in a rush. Without even knowing what was happening to him he knew from that instant on that the memories that had so eloquently buried itself in the back of his mind, were no longer just dreams to him, but reality.

* * *

Gandalf shook his head, and sighed. The quake was an unexpected gift from an old enemy. He knew when it had started that the turn of events had taken a sharp turn for the worst. The tides were changing and Melkor had risen once again. He walked over a doorframe and entered the halls. He needed to find Elrond, and inform him of this before Rivendell became a new toy for the dark lord. It was time Elrond became aware of his power, and his destiny, before it was too late.

* * *

Elladan cried out with all his might, but no one answered his pleas. There was no one around to pull him from his precarious position. He shivered with fright when he heard the iron rod creak. "Oh, please no. Don't let me fall." He whimpered. There was nothing he could do to help himself, he couldn't reach out for the ledge, and he also couldn't pull himself up. His right arm was numb, and he no longer felt the pain. His left side just hung there, and glancing at it, it appeared to be fine, but even willing it to move didn't help. It just hung there uselessly.

The iron rod creaked again and bent slightly. Elladan whimpered again. When the rod bent even more, his arm ripped a little. Gagging on the bile that immediately rose in his throat, he felt instant pain. His vision clouded briefly and he felt his mind swim. He cried out again begging for someone to help him, but still no one responded. He closed his eyes tightly, he mouth moving in silent prayer. He didn't want to fall, but he also felt his heart tighten at the mere thought of life without his brother. Elladan felt himself start to loose consciousness and he smiled slightly, when he realized that he would not be awake if he did fall.

"Wait." He whispered before his mind clouded over into darkness. He was unable to finish when his head tilted over limply.

* * *

Figwit stopped. "Did you hear that?"

Erestor nodded glancing around him. "I hear it too." Both elves stood there silently, not moving, waiting for another cry.

"There it is again!" Figwit raced off into the direction the cry had come from. Erestor followed looking around as he ran. He was unable to stop when he saw Figwit stop with a startled exclamation. "Look!" Erestor glanced up past Figwit's finger, and his heart froze.

"Oh Varda!" Erestor cried. "Come!" Both elves scrambled towards the building where a small elfling hung apparently unconscious.

Figwit glanced up and stopped abruptly. "It's one of the twins!" He cried in terror.

Erestor looked up sharply, true to his young charges words, there hung one of Elrond's son's. "Come on!" He shouted pushing Figwit into motion. He squinted glancing at the child far above him. The arm was hooked onto something, but even squinting he couldn't make out what it was.

Both elves raced around the side of the building and quickly climbing the stairs. Never before had Erestor run so hard in his life. He had charged into battle, even raced to help friends, but not once had he run to save a child from a drop that would surely kill him.

They rounded the corner and through the broken doorframe. The balcony shuddered slightly from their added weight, causing the elves to freeze. It quivered and shook; Erestor placed his hand on Figwit's shoulder and pulled him back to the door.

"If we both go, our added weight will cause the balcony to shift and fall." Erestor shared a look with Figwit. "I will not risk your life, so remain here."

Figwit shook his head furiously. "I weigh less then you, I am also smaller."

Both elves stood there arguing when the balcony groaned. They froze, turning their heads towards the drop off. Figwit glanced at Erestor and with a confirming nod, edged forward stepping carefully on the balcony. He knelt and edged forward onto his stomach to even out the weight and pushed himself towards the edge. The young elf glanced over and caught sight of the elf drawing his breath in harshly.

"He is injured." Figwit hissed between clenched teeth. He reached down to grasp the son of Elrond, when the balcony groaned again and shuddered violently. Figwit tried to grasp the elf when the hook gave way on his arm.

Figwit watched in horror as the elf child fell from the balcony edge towards the cliffs and raging river below.


	5. Finding that Which is Lost

**Chapter Four Finding That Which is Lost **

He hung there suspended in air, his hands clenching the belt of the young elfling, and his feet tightly wrapped in an amazingly strong pair of hands. Figwit hissed into the air at his mentor. "The balcony will not support our added weight. Take the child and let me fall."

"Stubborn elf!" Erestor gritted his teeth. "Stop moving!"

"It is not I." Figwit protested. "It is my young charge. He is swinging and I have him by nothing more then his belt. If you refuse to drop me, then pull me up."

Erestor cursed and pulled with all his might. Slowly Figwit and the elfling were pulled onto the balcony. Once safely on the ledge, Figwit sighed. Both he and Erestor pulled the youth to the safety of the doorway. Figwit knelt beside the elf and began his searches for injuries. The arm started to bleed protrusely, causing Figwit to hiss in warning.

"We must bind this wound before he bleeds to death." Figwit glanced over at Erestor who proceeded to take off his tunic. "Why is he not yet dead?"

"His arm being suspended above him prevented the blood flow. His arm hanging above his heart stopped the blood from pumping rapidly through his system. Thus causing the wound time to heal over slightly, but not enough to completely heal." Erestor explained quickly binding the wound. "We must find Elrond." He gathered the small child in his arms and took a good look at him. "It is Elladan."

Figwit raised his eyebrow curiously. "How do you know?"

"A guess." Erestor chuckled, wincing slightly under the added weight to his ribs, and the pressure to his lungs.

"Where is Elrohir?" Figwit whispered fearing the answer.

Erestor shook his head, praying that the child was also not on the balcony. His heart knew the answer, but he refused to think about it. The child in his arms needed a healer immediately.

They scrambled down the stairway and back out into the open, together they raced over broken rocks, and wood, to reach the remains of the house of Elrond.

* * *

Thranduil called out an order to his men, pointing in front of him to the tree branch that had fallen across the river. It didn't take them long to cross the Bruinen to the other side where they felt the grief and sorrow of the land beneath them.

"What happened here?" One of his men whispered shivering from the emotions of the land.

Thranduil shook his head uncertainly. He was now glad that he didn't bring his wife and children with him. Something had happened and with growing fear, he shouted an order to proceed ahead. Gingerly they walked forward. They carefully stepped over overturned rocks, tossed trees, and cracks in the earth.

"What caused the earth to split, milord?" The youngest and newest member of his home guard asked softly.

Thranduil shook his head slightly, frowning briefly. "I know not, but let us proceed with caution. There is evil here-I can feel it."

The others nodded their agreement, knowing what evil felt like. Spiders had started to descend from the mountains around their homeland, currently making their home in the beautiful forest of Greenwood the Great. It now appeared that their home was living up to the name given to that particular forest by their former king, Oropher. The last name, which had been whispered upon his lips at the last Alliance. Mirkwood.

These were not the ordinary house spiders that the forest was used to, but giant ones from the Misty Mountains, poisonous spiders that sent even the best guard into fear. The mere mention of these spiders sent everyone in the Royal woods to run with fear, and hide in their mountain homes. Too many deaths had been the cause of this new foe, and Thranduil, having heard Mithrandir was visiting Rivendell decided to visit for answers.

This devastation had been the furthest thing from his mind when he had set out on his journey. Now it appeared that the evil had spread even to the borders of the peaceful land. With a nod of continuation, they edged forward towards the ridge above Rivendell. Time to see how far the evil had indeed spread.

* * *

He groaned in frustration. Somehow lying perfectly still, caused him more pain then wriggling around like a madman. His mind could not comprehend that logic, so he began wriggling again. He desperately wanted this tree off him, but no matter how hard he tried, the thing refused to budge. Even his attempts at moving out from under the tree, caused him to break his foot, which at the current moment was throbbing unmercilessly.

He rolled his eyes skyward, and cried out to the blue sky littered with light fluffy clouds. 'Fluffy!' He shook his head furiously. "I am loosing my mind!" He cried out to no one in particular. He glared at the brown trunk of the tree accusingly. "This is your fault!" He growled. "Get off me!" He hissed between clenched teeth. Even mind power would not work to move it. "I give UP!" He pouted. A warrior such as he should not have to beg the tree to get off him; he shouldn't even be in this particular procurement in the first place.

"Definitely going to be a long night." He moaned. Sighing to himself, he picked up a handful of dirt and tossed it at the tree, but the wind picked up just as it left his hand and flew directly into his face. Sputtering the dirt out of his nose and mouth, he moaned again. "Aye, going to be a long night indeed!" He turned his head skyward, and started counting the clouds in the sky.

* * *

She sat by the water; her feet dipped in the cool stream kicking up little rivulets. It was a beautiful day and the sun was out. Her father and herself had gone out for a day of fishing and were now preparing the afternoon meal. Laughing to herself quietly, she reminded herself that her father was making lunch, while she soaked up the coolness of the shade by the river.

It was the first day in weeks that she and her father were able to find time to be together and she was enjoying the day so much that she almost didn't mind that her mother was no longer there with them. Saddened by the memories of her mother she felt her mouth turn down slightly, her eyes threatening to fill with tears. She shook her head quickly; she didn't want memories to ruin her day with her father. It had taken him so long to recover from his grief.

She smiled wiping the tears out of her eyes and glanced over her shoulder. Her father was humming by the small fire he had built poking at the fish that cooked on the stones in the flames. She sniffed the air and sighed in contentment. Today could not get any better then this she reminded herself. She turned her head back to the river and squinted her eyes when something on the opposite bank caught her attention.

Something floated there caught on something, but she couldn't make out what it was. She stood up smoothing out her dress, and placed a delicate hand shading her eyes from the glare of the sun. She squinted her eyes more. She still could not make out what floated there. It appeared to be a shirt or material of sorts.

She turned her head and called to her father. "Ada! Come here." She raised her hand once again blocking out the sun.

"What is it, Lovie?" He asked standing from beside the fire to join her at the riverside.

"Look there across the river." She pointed to the opposite bank and glanced at her father who was now shading his eyes and squinting.

"What do you suppose?" He muttered. "Stay here sweets. I will take the boat across and see what it is." He ruffled her blonde hair, causing the clasps to twist slightly and shift. She narrowed her blue eyes at him and frowned.

Her father chuckled, and stepped inside the boat, and drew out his oar. He rowed across the almost motionless river, which had been raging earlier on in the day. Celanos kept his eyes on the bank where his daughter stood shading her eyes and squinting at the object, and shifted her feet impatiently. Smiling to himself, he guessed the object to be a doll of sorts, not what he was greeted with in the least.

He gasped when he saw the body of a small child floating half on the banks and half in the river. His eyes widened at the mass of wet hair plastered across the face, the white limp body and almost deathlike look of the child. Closing his eyes, he reached his hands out and rolled the child over.


	6. Healing and Rebuilding

**Chapter Five Healing and Rebuilding **

He pulled with all his might to pull the sodden child into his boat, he knew instantly that the child was elven, but once the child was in the boat he couldn't place the familiar face. Dark hair plastered the child's face. Wincing at the many bruises that scattered the rounded face, Celanos pushed the hair off the forehead and took in the child's features trying to place where he had seen this boys face. He wrapped his cloak around the boy and began rowing back to the opposite shore where his daughter stood impatiently.

"Lovie, get towels." He shouted. "Place blankets around the fire grab my healing bag."

His daughter raced away from the riverside and did as she was told. By the time she had finished her father had pulled the boat ashore and carried the small child to the fireside. She watched silently as her father placed the child on the blankets and began drying him off. She gasped when she looked at the boys face and swallowed.

"It is Lord Elrond's son!" She wailed.

Her father glanced up sharply. Celanos glanced down at the boy and indeed it was one of the twin's. "You know him?"

She shook her head. "I have only seen them briefly. I spoke with one at the festival, but I do not know which one."

Celanos frowned and began assessing the child's injuries. He winced at the many wounds and broken bones he came across and ruffled through his healing bag. The boy had a broken collarbone, which would prove to be painful. Both his legs were broken, fractured and torn through the skin. The worst one was his left leg, broken above the kneecap, the sharp bone protruding angrily from the skin. Black and blue bruises covered the child's body. The ribcage was lying at odd angles marking broken ribs, blood flowed from the boy's nose and mouth, and the last and most concerning injury was one on the head. Blood flowed freely down the child's face, and pushing the hair aside, Celanos saw the angry laceration. A large goose egg above the cut signalled concussion. Taking a deep breath, Celanos knew these injuries were beyond his aid, but the son of Elrond could not be moved safely without causing more injury to him.

Celanos knew he had to take the boy to Elrond for healing, but he was not about to leave his young daughter nor the child to bring Elrond to their encampment. He could not send his daughter alone to Rivendell, and he could not bring the children on horseback to the city, so they had to remain here until the child either healed with his aid, or-. Celanos shook his head dislodging his thoughts.

Silently he began cleaning and binding the child's wounds as best as he could. He had cleaned up minor scrapes and cuts his daughter had received when she had been rough housing with her friends, but he had never had to set broken bones, nor stitch serious cuts. Swallowing against the bile that rose in his throat, Celanos began to tend the child's wounds before he lost too much blood. Valar only knew how long the child had been in the river, but he could only hope it had not been too long to save the child's life.

* * *

Furiously he kicked at the rocks and debris in his way. He knew Elrond was trapped beneath the rocks, and he knew that where the sobbing and shouting was coming from that he was getting close. As he turned the corner, he saw Celebrian calling into the darkness, her face was tear streaked and fear shone in her eyes when she glanced up to see who had arrived. With a startled exclamation, she stood and flung herself in his arms.

Taken back, he wrapped his arms around her and whispered into her ear. "Shush, it is time for you to be strong for your family."

"Elrond is down there." She pointed to the large gaping hole in the floor.

Gandalf nodded. "I know."

Celebrian straightened herself, and stood tall. "We must dig him out. There will be many who will need his assistance." She sighed quickly adding softly. "If he lives."

Gandalf nodded again. "He lives." He smiled when a grunt filled the air from the crevice. "Very much aware of his surroundings."

Celebrian smiled and nodded. "How will we get him out of there?"

Gandalf motioned for her to follow him, and both made their way down the halls, towards the stairs.

Celebrian stopped suddenly. "Gandalf." She whispered harshly. "My children?" Panic rose in her almost causing her to go mad.

"One thing at a time, let us gather your husband, then we will search for your children."

"Do they live, Gandalf?" She felt tears fill her eyes again.

Gandalf frowned and searched for the twin's presence and found small golden traces of their fae's. "At the moment they are alive, but quickly now, we must retrieve Elrond and begin our search."

* * *

Figwit stopped suddenly, hissing in pain. The more he moved the more his foot and leg throbbed. Erestor stopped and spun around catching a glimpse of Figwit falling to his knees.

Shaking his head quickly, Figwit shouted. "No, take Elladan to Elrond!" Swallowing hard, he looked up at the torn expression on his mentor's face. "I will catch up, you have my word."

Nodding once, Erestor turned and stumbled across rock and wood. The house of Elrond was close, just through the trees. The feeling of dread filled him as he took the first steps to the great oak door. Nothing remained of the great house, nor of the lands. As Erestor looked around him, his eyes saw the deep crevasses, tumbled buildings, steaming fissures plus many dead or injured. Shaking his head, he silently climbed the stairs and entered the house carrying the small child in his arms. Elladan moaned softly, unconscious of the terror and devastation around him. Erestor took a deep breath and walked through the doors. He prayed that the healing rooms still remained intact, or at least the healing supplies that were needed in aiding the small child in his arms.

He had to make sure that the child was stable before searching for Elrond who would be able to help his son more then he could. He was skilled enough to stitch wounds, apply salves to cuts, splint broken limbs, and even apply painkillers to the patient. However skilled he was, he was not able to sunder pain with a simple touch, nor place the injured into sleep to aid in healing. Turning the corner lost in thought, he gasped when he entered what was left of the healing rooms.

* * *

Something wet fell onto his cheek and he raised his hand to rub it away. Glancing at his fingers, he noticed it was blood. Raising his hand once more to his face, he touched the large gash on his forehead and hissed in pain. Glorfindel curled his lip and stumbled through the rock, and over the large pieces of wood that were splintered on the floor. Unsure of what happened, he proceeded through the remains of the halls in search of Elrond.

A loud moan caused him to stop suddenly and spin around. Narrowing his eyes he glanced around in the darkness and listened carefully for the sound again. He heard a sigh and scrambled over to the voice. Throwing aside rock, and finally falling to his knees, he caught sight of a foot. It was bare and deeply cut by all the gagged rock.

Glorfindel began tossing rocks over his shoulder trying to uncover the face, and he gasped when he looked into the deep blue eyes of his friend.

* * *

Galathil couldn't remember the last time he was useless. There had been times in battle when he thought he would loose his footing from weariness. But not once could he think of when he was completely and utterly hopeless.

He chuckled and shook his head. "What a fine mess I have gotten myself into." Frowning, he decided finally to call out for aid. Embarrassed, he let out a loud cry. To his surprise an answering cry came after his. Hope filled him and he felt his eyes widen. "I am over here, stuck under a blasted tree!"

Galathil lifted his head and to his relief, Figwit came limping around the corner. Smiling despite his embarrassment, he coughed. "You have no idea how glad I am to see you, young one."

Figwit smiled and nodded. "How in all of Arda did you get stuck beneath this tree?" He asked glancing down the length of it.

"Don't ask!" Galathil muttered. "Can you get me out? Or must I continue to lay here and count the clouds?"

Figwit snorted trying to contain his laughter. "You counted the clouds?" He asked amused, lifting his eyebrow in question.

"Only after I counted the leaves on the tree here."

"I dare ask how many leaves and clouds you have counted." Figwit chuckled.

Narrowing his eyes, Galathil glared at the youth. "Can you get me out?" He asked again.

"I believe I can, I may need you to help me."

"Then by all means, let us get started."

Nodding, Figwit planted his feet into the earth and began pushing. The tree wouldn't budge. "Are you helping?" He asked exasperated.

"Yes! Now keep pushing." Galathil grunted.

Try as he might, the tree refused to move. Figwit stood tall and looked around him. There was nothing that would aid in removing the tree. However, he spun around when his ears picked up voices. He cried out to who ever had arrived, and he received an answering cry. To his utter surprise it was Thranduil and his royal guards.

Limping over to them, he grinned from ear to ear. "You have no idea how glad I am to see you, majesty."

Thranduil nodded. "What happened here?" He asked glancing around him at the devastation.

"It came upon us suddenly. The ground shook violently. Nothing remains."

"Excuse me! I am still over here!"

Spinning around smiling still, Figwit waved the party over.

With their help they were able to free Galathil from beneath the large oak tree, and pull him to safety. Rubbing his arms, Galathil sat there for a moment, and finally sighed.

Thranduil shook his head. "Elrond?"

Figwit lowered his head. "We have no idea. Erestor took his son inside to find him."

Nodding, the elven king waved to a few of his men, and they began lacing together two litters to carry the two injured elves. Holding his hand up to silence Figwit and Galathil, he shook his head. "You two are injured and will slow our progress. You will lie on the litters and be carried. It will also prevent you from injuring yourselves further."

The two elves glanced at each other and nodded. With the help of Thranduil's men, they sat on the litters and were carried towards the house of Elrond. Figwit glanced at one of the elves who carried one end of his litter and noticed that he was young. Even younger then him. The guard's eyes were free from horror, filled with excitement and joy at being finally able to join the others. Smiling, he caught the guard's eyes.

"Well worth the training you endure is it not?"

The boy smiled and nodded.

Looking away, Figwit glanced at Galathil who was rubbing his foot. "Stop touching it." Figwit muttered.

"Mind your own business." Galathil hissed amusedly. However his smiled turned to a frown when the ground lurched suddenly to the side, causing his litter to be dropped and shouts of alarm filled the air. "Not again."


	7. Despair and Hopelessness

**Chapter Six Despair and Hopelessness**

Celanos watched helplessly as the injured child, by the fire, tossed and turned his head in agony. The injuries he sustained were serious, and the eldar debated silently to himself whether to go to Rivendell or protect the children in the outer borders of the elven city. His heart was pounding hard at the thought of the child dying in his care, but also of Lord Elrond who would be devastated at the loss of one of his children. Clearing his throat uncomfortably, he glanced at his daughter. Knowing that his heart would break if she were to die, he knew the family of the child would never recover.

Celanos was not close with the lord or his family, but being a tanner of cloths he made many of the garments the lord's family wore. Rubbing his eyes wearily, he took a deep breath before calling his daughter over to him softly.

"Celoviel." He whispered.

His daughter rushed over to him and flung her arms around his neck.

"I have a hard decision to make. I need your help in this matter."

She pulled away and sat down in his lap. Her blue eyes searched his intently before nodding.

"Are you brave at heart, daughter?" He asked wrinkling his brow in concern.

"Aye, Ada." She smiled hesitantly. She gripped one of his hands in both of hers and squeezed tightly.

"This is my predicament." He paused before continuing in a strained voice filled with emotion. "Lord Elrond's son is injured, to save his life I need a healer. I have done all that I can. I have the important decision to either stay here and protect the two of you, and if I do, the child will pass undoubtedly into the halls of Mandos." He paused and carefully watched his daughter's features. She held a mask of understanding and pride. "The other option is, to travel alone to Rivendell, while you remain here with the boy. If this decision is made, you will be responsible for his safety. The skills you have learned in your lessons may be tried and tested if danger arrives."

She nodded listening to her father's words without missing the full meaning of his speech.

"What say you on this matter?"

She drew herself up and squared her shoulders. The choice was given to her, a hard choice to either be grown up enough to stay by herself, which she had never had to experience. Or to be the child she was and refuse her father to leave and save a life.

"How long do I have to think about this?" She asked softly.

Celanos winced briefly. "Not long, Lovie. I will give you until the sun reaches the top of that tree." He pointed to the tree directly above their camp indicating where the sun was, only inches from it. "Is that enough time?"

She smiled nodding. Celoviel stood up and walked to the riverside, where she began thinking.

* * *

Thranduil flinched at the wailing of the trees, as the ground shook beneath him. His party stopped startled glancing at each other in confusion. Galathil snarled loudly cursing the ground until it finally stopped its brief motion. "Will it ever stop!" He raged.

Thranduil looked at him, frowning. "Come, we must hurry." He bent over Galathil's litter and raised an eyebrow curiously. "Do you always curse so abruptly, young one?"

Galathil snorted. "Young? You are only a hundred fifty years older then myself, majesty."

Thranduil chuckled. "Ahh, but still older. My father used to discipline me when I cursed as you did."

"Aye, but my father cursed regularly, hence why I curse I suppose." Galathil grinned, winking.

Figwit shook his head. "It's a wonder the children you teach do not curse as you do."

"Quiet whelp." Galathil wrinkled his brow. A small smile twitched on his lips.

Thranduil lost this dignity and roared with laughter. "Oh how I missed Rivendell." He waved for the party to move on and kept chuckling as the two injured elves bickered like old wash maids.

They passed through the former welcoming circle and stopped glancing around them taking in the ruins that were once the grand houses of Rivendell. Taking a deep breath, Thranduil barked orders to his guards to find survivors. Placing the litters on the ground, the guards dispersed and began their searches in various places. Thranduil turned and glanced at the two elves and raised his eyebrow in mock humor.

"Do you suppose you two can keep away from each others throats while I join the search? Or must I stay here and supervise?"

Simultaneously, the elves grinned. "We will be fine, milord."

Scrutinizing them intently he nodded once and drifted off towards the house of Elrond. Glancing around, Thranduil stopped from time to time pushing over rocks and branches, looking for traces of life, and found none. Dread filled his heart at the loss of life he felt within Rivendell, but hope also gathered creating strength and determination. A small movement out of the corner of his eye caused him to glance up quickly. He could have sworn he saw movement in one of the windows that almost crumpled from the weight of the stone.

Calling out, he caught movement again. The shadow formed at the tattered window and glanced out. It was Lord Elrond's advisor. 'What is his name again?' Thranduil thought quickly. Dark hair hung wildly about the elf's shoulders.

"Majesty?" The figure called.

"Who have you found?" Thranduil called up still thinking rapidly for a name to give the elf.

"Lord Elrond's son, no sign of Elrond, and the healing chambers are gone. Have you herbs?"

Nodding, Thranduil called out to the young guard ten feet away from him. "Suiren."

The guard sprinted up to him. "Milord?"

"Do you still have that pouch of healing supplies?"

Suiren nodded quickly and pulled his bag from off his shoulders. Quickly digging through it he pulled the small leather pouch out and handed it to Thranduil. The king refused to take the pouch and pointed to the window. "You have skills for healing, I do not."

Nodding quickly, the young guard sprinted over rock and branches towards the broken window. Suiren called up and tossed the pouch through the window, jumping up after and catching the sill. Climbing into the window, he glanced around him shaking his head almost in defeat.

"Here, I need you to aid me." The dark haired elf whispered, placing the child on the floor. Suiren gasped when he caught sight of the bruises, heavily bandaged arm, and open wounds on the boy. Taking a deep breath, he quickly knelt beside the boy and placed his hand on the child's forehead. He focused his attention on the small wavering fae, and closed his eyes. Suiren heard a small gasp of surprise and the soft whispered words.

"You're a healer." The dark haired elf stated.

Opening his eyes, he shook his head slightly. "I have some healing abilities. I can help only, not fully heal his wounded fae."

Squinting his eyes in disbelief, the eldar elf nodded in agreement and watched silently as the younger elf concentrated his healing on Elladan.

* * *

Celoviel walked back over to her father feeling slightly afraid of her final decision. Climbing back into her father's lap she forced a small smile. "I have decided, ada." She whispered.

Celanos nodded, waiting patiently for her to admit her fears.

"I am afraid, that I cannot hide. But I will stay behind so you can get help." She breathed deeply as she said those words.

Celanos nodded rubbing her back and giving her a large encouraging hug. "You are indeed brave, Lovie. I know you are frightened. I am also, having to leave you here. But I will be quick. By dawn tomorrow I shall return."

She smiled and nodded. "If trouble comes, what will I use to protect us?"

Celanos drew out a small dagger and handed it to her. "Use this as you would your fists." He stood and carried her to his bag and placed her on the ground. Digging through it he pulled out a hand knuckler, and handed it to her as well. "This shall be useful as a part of your hand. Do you know how to use this?"

She glanced at it in awe, shaking her head no.

He knelt down beside her and placed it on her hand. Celanos told her to form a fist and the knuckler became a part of her fist, but a deadly one of sharp knives. Each one of her knuckles became a sharp object and she grinned at the lightweight. "Do you think you can use this?"

She nodded eagerly.

Smiling he ruffled her hair. "If the child becomes ill, give him some of that herbal tea I gave him earlier. You remember?"

Again Celoviel nodded. "I will be fine, ada. But please hurry."

Celanos took a deep breath and stood quickly. "Keep the fire low, if you get cold, wrap blankets around yourself and the boy." They walked to the boat and he climbed in. "If trouble finds you, and you are in dire need, connect your fae with mine, and I will sense it."

Pushing the boat away from the shore, Celanos kept his eyes on his daughter until he was around the bend, and he began rowing quickly towards Rivendell. He prayed to the Valar to keep his daughter safe while he was not around. Closing his eyes tightly he let a lone tear fall onto his cheek as he prayed for forgiveness for leaving his child alone. Silently, he hoped they would not hold it against him, leaving his daughter to possible danger to save the life of one child who was not his blood.

Celoviel turned away from the river after her father rounded the bend, and she rubbed her arms quickly, her eyes darting into the growing shadows around her. She shook her head hard, remembering to be brave and strong like her mother was, and she smiled as she walked back towards the almost dead fire. Pulling blankets out of their rolls she began setting up a sleeping area for herself and the boy.

As night approached so did the nighttime animals, and their calls for food and company. She curled herself up beside the boy and stayed awake as the hoots of owls and screeches of animals unknown to her called out. She hoped her father was true to his words and returned before dawn. Celoviel felt her eyes grow heavy and they slipped shut despite her effort to stay awake.

She did not notice beside her as the dark haired elfling took a shuddering breath, and sighed, the air leaving his lungs, and not drawing another breath to refill them.


	8. Shattering Cries of Love

**Chapter Seven Shattering Cries of Love**

Celanos rowed his boat with all the strength he possessed. It took him less time to row downriver then it did upriver, against the current, and at his present speed and determination, he would reach Rivendell by early morning. His blood boiled in his veins as his thoughts drifted to the children he left behind. The elf's mind also drifted to his wife, who had passed to the halls of Mandos. It had been just over a year since she had died, and he still felt his heart tighten at the mere thought of life without her. She had made him promise to stay and take care of their daughter.

Shaking his head, trying to clear his thoughts, the painful memories resurfacing unbidden, Celanos felt tears well up in his eyes at the anger and grief that tried to take over all reasoning. He remembered his promise; he would not follow his wife to the undying lands, nor to the halls of Mandos until his daughter was full grown.

His mind drifted to the past; to that dreadful day.

* * *

_The sun shone brightly high above their small cottage. His daughter's laughter rang out joyfully as she raced around their tiny farm, chasing a small feral cat. Celanos smiled watching as he did every morning, laughing softly to himself, secretly knowing his daughter would never catch the animal. No matter how hard she tried, the cat teased her as she teased it to be caught. A small groan from inside their cottage caused him to glance over his shoulder. His wife was in the early stages of labour, and he knew she would give birth before the weeks end. It had started early last night, and he had made his wife as comfortable as possible. She had felt better that morning, but now it appeared the labour was intensifying. _

_Seraveil's soft voice called out to him for water, and he got to his feet quickly to heed her every wish. He knelt down beside the bed and lifted her head allowing her a small drink of water, before he laid her back onto the soft down pillow. She grinned rubbing her belly. 'Your son will be here tomorrow, Celanos.' She whispered quietly. _

_Nodding he grinned from ear to ear. 'Do you wish me to stay here rather then take Celoviel to the festival?' _

_She shook her head. 'No, she has been looking forward to this day for months, my love. Allow her some fun before the babe's arrival.' _

_'What about you?' _

_'I will go with you to the morning meal, all the children will be there, and Celoviel will want to meet and make some new friends.' _

_'As long as she doesn't beat them up as she did with Leriala.' He muttered under his breath, causing his wife to chuckle. _

_'We both know that situation, love. It was not her fault.' His wife defended her daughter. _

_Nodding, he turned a bright smile to his wife, before the smile turned into a frown as his wife's face scrunched up in pain. _

_'It is naught, only a contraction.' His wife assured him. 'Besides, I will talk with Lord Elrond this morning, should we see him at the table.' _

_Raising an eyebrow, Celanos nodded. He turned his head towards the door as a loud yowl came from the feral cat. _

_'I believe your daughter has finally caught that poor kitty.' His wife laughed. _

_'Ai! She will torture that poor beast.' Scrambling to his feet, Celanos walked to the door quickly, seeing his young daughter holding the small orange cat as she would a rag doll. _

_"Lovie, please put that cat down. Chase it around you may, but it is wild and may scratch you.' _

_'Can we keep her, Ada?' She asked grinning triumphantly. _

_'I say not, come, time for you to get ready for breakfast.' _

_The breakfast had gone pretty much uneventful; his wife had kept her word and talked with Lord Elrond about her labour. True to her words, their son would be born by midafternoon the following day, and appeared to be going along smoothly. His daughter had suddenly appeared fascinated with a small boy who she had bumped into earlier, and seemed to be following him around happily. _

_Celanos had laughed when she had approached him asking if she saw where the boy had gone. He had grinned at his wife and shook his head. _

_Celanos had taken Celoviel to the feast as he promised to his wife. Everything had appeared to be going alone smoothly, when suddenly, a young man came running up to him asking for his assistance. _

_Celanos had raced from the festival leaving his daughter with a friend, and raced home to his wife. Something had gone terribly wrong. When he entered, he saw three young women tending his wailing wife. She was crying and yelling at them. The sheets were stained with blood, and he had nearly fainted when one of the women turned holding a small unmoving form wrapped protectively in a blanket. _

_Celanos scrambled over to the bedside, catching his wife in a large hug. Tears ran down her face as her eyes followed the lady who held their son. He was dead. Crying out with rage and overwhelming grief, Celanos had held his wife that night whispering and talking to her. By early morning his wife had passed to the halls of Mandos. Celanos had fallen into grief.

* * *

_

He lifted his head quickly. Tears ran unbidden down his face. The memories would be with him for the rest of his life. Sadly he glanced around and realized that he was drifting on the water. Celanos had stopped rowing. Shaking his head he placed the oars back into the water, but stopped when he noticed something amiss. There were no birdcalls, no songs, or chirps. Frowning, the elf warily rowed to shore, and pulled the boat onto the bank. His eyes peered into the woods around him finding nothing out of place. However, something was terribly wrong.

A sharp kick caused her to wake suddenly. The boy beside her was thrashing around in his bedroll. Startled she sat up and looked at the elf. His lips were blue, and he was not breathing. Crying out suddenly, not knowing what to do, she shook him with both her hands. "Wake up. Wake up. Stop kicking around." Helplessly, she looked around at the darkness; her father was not around to help her. Her eyes fell onto the small cup of tea, he had left.

_'If the child becomes ill, give him some of that herbal tea I gave him earlier._' Her father's words came to her in a rush, and she raced to her feet. Grabbing the cup she ran back to the boy, whose pale face was now greyish in colour.

"Here, drink this." She placed the cup to the child's mouth but his flailing hands knocked it out of her small hands and fell to the ground, it's contents spilling all over the dirt. "Now look what you have done, you spilled it."

The boy's ashen face scrunched up and his blue lips suddenly turned grey. His thrashing grew less, and then he stopped. Not moving at all. "No, you cannot leave. ADA!" She cried out into the darkness.

* * *

The forehead under his hand grew cold. Searching with his mind, he felt something pulling away from the child's fëa, and he gently called the figure back. His healing flowed through the injured elfling with intensity he had never felt before. Power surged through him and he felt both fae's with in the child grow strong once more.

"Does this boy have a sibling?" He whispered quietly.

Erestor nodded. "He has a twin, why?"

The young guard shook his head. He did not answer the dark haired elf, but concentrated his healing to keep the boys strong. Sweat broke out on his forehead as he through all his healing abilities into the children. When he had started, he did not know he would be healing two, rather then only one. This was beyond his power, and he didn't know how long he could hold onto them both.

* * *

Celanos felt his heart wrench in the direction he had left his daughter. Giving a startled cry, he raced back towards the camp. Stumbling over dry twigs embedded in the dirt path, the elf ran as he had never run before. His daughter needed him; he felt the fear before his heart tugged at him.

Jumping onto a boulder to his left, Celanos tried to stop suddenly as he saw three sets of bows aimed at him. Giving a startled cry, Celanos slipped and fell, trying to stop his momentum. His head cracked on the edge of the boulder as he slipped off the surface. Black spots filled his eyes as he gasped from the pain. The golden eyes peered down at him, and they roared with laughter at his demise. Orcs had sensed the evil welling up around the lands, and had finally come into the open. They had their first victim. Falling into darkness, Celanos let out a wail before the abyss took him completely.

'Lovie!' He thought to himself as he slipped into unconsciousness. His daughter would never know what happened. 'I love you.' His mind sent out along their fëa


	9. Confusing Awareness

**Chapter Eight Confusing Awareness **

Glorfindel sat back moments later, pulling his friend out of the rubble. Elrond was injured, but not so seriously so that he couldn't be of assistance to those who were in dire need of his ministrations. Even if Elrond had been on his deathbed, his need and devotion to his people would not keep him detained from helping those around him.

Glorfindel noticed a large goose egg on the healer's forehead, and touched it lightly. A hiss caused him to smile. His friend was near waking, and felt pain. 'This is good.' The golden haired elf thought silently.

"Wake, my friend. There are those who need your assistance." Glorfindel whispered.

The head nodded briefly and one eye opened, revealing a glazed blue eye. "How long have I been out?" Elrond asked, closing his eye and taking a deep breath.

"Long enough." The reply did not come from Glorfindel, and caused the golden haired elf to look over his shoulder at the one who spoke.

"Gandalf!" Glorfindel sighed relieved. Around the corner, partially hidden by the long grey cloak the wizard wore, came the healer's lady. "Milady. Are you well?" Glorfindel stood quickly rushing over to her. He took her arm gently and helped her over the loose stone and wood.

Celebrían nodded smiling despite the pain in her leg. She knelt beside her husband and took his hand gently. "Elrond?"

A smile passed across his face. "Hello, my love." He whispered. Elrond opened both his eyes and looked at her intently. "How do you fare?"

"Better then you." She lightly smacked his arm. "You frightened me out of my wits. When you did not answer me, I thought I had lost you." She balled her fists and tapped his shoulder.

Smiling with mock hurt, Elrond attempted to sit up. Glorfindel quickly aided him. "I am well, Celebrían. A few bruised ribs, sore leg, but I live."

Muttering under his breath, Glorfindel frowned. "Bruised ribs? Aye, and I am a dwarf!"

Elrond glared at him. Suddenly, Elrond's face changed from one of happy smiling reunion to one of dread. He glanced at his wife, before whispering. "The twin's?"

Celebrían shook her head. "We have not found them yet." She allowed her eyes to meet Elrond's and he saw tears well up in them. Worried, he pulled her into a tight hug and rubbed her back looking at Glorfindel and Gandalf over her shoulder. "Do not worry, we will find them."

Gandalf walked forward, and whispered. "Elrond, it is time for you to pull forth Vilya and learn to use it."

Looking up quickly, he narrowed his eyes. "Not until my son's are found." He hissed between clenched teeth.

"More devastation and destruction will befall this peaceful realm if you do not wield the ring." Gandalf frowned.

"I know its powers, Gandalf. The ring of air will remain locked in its chest, until my children are found."

Shaking his head angrily, Gandalf raised his voice slightly. "You only know its powers with the aid of Nenya, you have yet to wield the full power of this ring."

"Gandalf." Elrond warned. "I will be more then willing to hear your words, but not until the twin's are found."

"Elrond." Gandalf started but was silenced when Elrond raised his hand. Shaking his head in fury, Gandalf nodded. "When your son's are found and you have healed then we will discuss this further. There is evil now in this realm, and it must be vanquished."

Nodding in understanding, Elrond pushed himself to his feet slowly, hissing in pain when he planted his feet firmly on the ground. "Now, where were the boy's when this quake started?"

* * *

Thranduil tended personally to Figwit's wounds, while his own healer was aiding those within the walls of the house. The long gash on the elf's leg was now bound tightly, and his leg looked over quickly.

"That should do it until we see Elrond." Thranduil smiled briefly.

"Elrond will have his hands full without having to worry over me. I will heal quickly." Figwit protested.

"Promise me you will see him once the seriously injured have been tended." Thranduil narrowed his eyes at the youthful elf.

Nodding his head, Figwit agreed. "You have my word."

Thranduil glanced over at the other litter where Galathil was now laying back. The elf's arm was covering his face, and appeared to be in some pain. Standing, the Mirkwood king walked over and lifted the elf's arm. "How are you?"

Blinking his eyes against the light, he attempted a smile. "I was fine until I laid flat. The pressure on my chest is almost too much for me to bear." He knew better then to lie to the king, Thranduil was skilled enough to know when one was giving false testaments. Nodding his head, Thranduil helped the elf into a sitting position.

"Let me have a look at those ribs." The king sighed.

Galathil took a deep breath once he was sitting upright, and half grinned at the king, but winced when his ribs were touched. "Gently." He hissed.

Nodding, the king fingered the several broken ribs the warrior held. Dark bruises covered the elf's chest signalling six or more cracked ribs, and one broken. "Do not move too much, this broken rib is in place of puncturing a lung if you are not careful." The king muttered.

Growling, Galathil nodded his head in frustration. "I suppose fighting is out of the question then?"

Raising his eyebrow, Thranduil looked up. "Who would you fight?"

Shrugging, Galathil chuckled before wincing.

They glanced over to the window where the king's healer had jumped. There had been no word from within, and this caused the elves on the ground worry. "Do you suppose everything is alright in there?"

Thranduil looked at Galathil briefly before standing and walking over to the window. He unclasped his formal robes and shrugged them off with a faint sigh of relief when it fell off his shoulders. Now clad in only a light tunic and his leggings, Thranduil lifted his tall frame into the window. He gasped slightly at the sight before him.

His old friend, Erestor was seated beside his healer Suiren who was deep in a healers slumber. Thranduil had never seen this new young charge so intent on healing. Walking forward, Thranduil felt his heart tighten when he caught sight of the child Suiren was concentrating on. It was Lord Elrond's son.

The king gasped. "What happened?" Catching Erestor's eye.

Shaking his head putting a finger to his lips, Erestor glanced back down at the child. Thranduil knelt beside them and took the child's limp hand in his. To his horror, the child's hand was icy cold. He added his other hand and began rubbing it to warm it up. The king kept his eye on the child's face while doing this and saw no movement or improvement.

Elrond's son was deathly pale, his face slightly ashen, lips blue, and rapidly breathing despite the seemingly lack of air the elfling drew in. Thinking back on his own family, he felt his face fall. This child was in dire need of his father's healing abilities. Thranduil felt a growl emanate in the back of his throat and he stood up furiously. He would not allow this child to die. Stumbling out of the room, the king of Mirkwood began his search to find Elrond.

With the aid of his friend, Elrond was helped out of the small cramped space. Glancing around him at the ruins that were once his home, Elrond gripped his wife's hand tightly. Footfalls caught his attention and he called out. The racing feet stopped suddenly and now grew louder heading towards their location.

Gandalf whispered. "Thranduil comes."

Elrond glanced at his quickly before calling out again. Looking above him through the hole, he saw the distinguished blonde head peer over the side. "Thranduil." Elrond nodded in greeting.

"You are needed, Elrond." Thranduil caught sight of Celebrían and bit his tongue.

"My first duty is that of a father." Elrond noticed the king's shift of eyes to his wife. Looking quickly at Glorfindel, Elrond whispered. "Lift me up."

Glorfindel frowned but refrained from comment and latched his hands together to lift Elrond to the king's waiting form. Thranduil saw this, and knelt lowering his hand quickly, before Celebrían could protest. He gripped Elrond's hand and lifted, quickly whispering to him. "Your son has been found. He is in need of your aid."

Pulled to the upper level, Elrond glanced down at the others. His wife glared at him, and he smiled. "I will go with Thranduil to find the boy's. You, Glorfindel, and Gandalf search down there."

"Elrond." Came his wife's warning.

Shaking his head firmly, he gritted his teeth. "It will be faster if we search different directions."

Without waiting for his wife's reply, Thranduil and Elrond headed towards the end of the hall. "Who did you find?"

Shaking his head, Thranduil led him towards the room where his own healer and Erestor were waiting. "Your son is seriously wounded. We must hurry." Turning the corner, Elrond caught sight of his councillor. Giving a cry of dismay, Elrond raced into the room and slid beside the prone figure on the ground. Cutting his knees as he slid on broken glass, and rock, he lifted his hand to the healer's shoulder.

The Mirkwood healer was deep within the healing and Elrond knew if he were to interfere immediately without making himself known, would cause the youth to loose himself. The power he felt emanate from Thranduil's healer caused him to frown. To go too deep in healing, the fëa would get lost within itself and never recover, this youth was getting too deep without knowing how powerful his healing abilities were.

Suiren felt the presence of another healer making himself known and he felt himself sigh in relief. Nodding his head, he allowed the other healer to lend his own abilities to his.

Elrond closed his eyes and fell into his healing solace, following the thin thread of his son's fëa. It was Elladan and he voiced it aloud. The injuries his son sustained were not serious enough to cause so much concentration. Furrowing his brows he searched within his son and felt the bonds of his twin's. Both were connected, and one was fading.

Thranduil sat down beside Erestor and silently watched Elrond and Suiren as they mixed their healing together. Elrond's face went ashen suddenly, and a hiss escaped his lips whispering Elladan. A small cry of dismay came seconds later, causing Thranduil to reach out to comfort his friend. A strong hand on his shoulder stopped him from interrupting the healing process.

"They are too deep, do not touch them. Something is amiss with Elrond's other son that is why they appear to be draining."

A whispered plea caused Thranduil and Erestor to look at the healer's. "You must find Elrohir!"

The king and councillor looked at each other once before getting to their feet quickly. Both raced to the window and jumped down in haste. Barking orders to his men, the King of Mirkwood ran past the two elves on litters and said nothing. Figwit and Galathil frowned, their eyes following Erestor and Thranduil until they were out of sight.

"What do you suppose?" Figwit whispered now alone with Galathil.

Shaking his head, the lesson's master rolled over onto his side and pushed himself upright. "Only one way to find out." He grimaced against the pain in his chest.

"What are you doing?" Figwit gasped, raising his eyebrows.

"I am going to lend aid to those who need it. Coming?"

Nodding his head, Figwit rose from his litter and stood shakily. "Lead the way."

Galathil and Figwit slowly walked towards the direction the Mirkwood king and Erestor had taken. Together they went in search of the party, and willing to lend what aid they could.

Celebrían snarled when her husband disappeared on the floor above them. With every intention of following her husband, Glorfindel who pointed towards the small opening leading to the stairs restrained her. "Let us go this way. It is safer. You know that Elrond would only leave your side if it were urgent."

Nodding her head, she allowed herself to be guided by the golden haired elf beside her. Gandalf whispered to Glorfindel in the tongue of Gondolin, causing the elf lord to look at him startled. He had understood the wizard.

"Elrond goes to help his son's. Keep quiet about this as they are in danger."

Shaking his head trying to clear his mind, he frowned suddenly. How did he know that language? He didn't remember it being spoken, nor did he remember speaking it.

"Glorfindel of Gondolin, ease your thoughts." Gandalf's whispered words filled his head again.

Growling in frustration, Glorfindel narrowed his eyes at the grey wizard. "You know who I am?" He snapped his mouth shut when he realized he had spoken in the same tongue Gandalf had used. "You have much to explain, Mithrandir!" Glorfindel snarled.

Nodding his head, his only reply was. "You will learn much once things have settled here."

Celebrían watched the two who accompanied her silently. They were keeping something from her, and she couldn't remember hearing the words they spoke before. She continued walking as they argued but before she could slip off they rejoined her causing her to sigh frustrated. Celebrían hoped that everything would be all right, but she felt a heaviness enter her soul the closer to the top of the stairs she got. Something was wrong, she could feel it. As a mother she knew her children were hurt and needed her, and as a wife she felt the tension of her husband, and knew instantly that her children had been found.

Giving a startled cry she ran off into the direction her husband had disappeared in, ignoring the startled shouts behind her.

"Catch her, she must not be allowed to see what has befallen her son." Gandalf shouted in the tongue long unused in the world.

Sprinting, Glorfindel quickly caught up to the lady and restrained her. "Nay, milady. There are more urgent matters to attend to at the moment."

Shouting in rage, Celebrían kicked her feet and tried to free herself from the vice grip Glorfindel had on her. "Let me go!" She cried. "What are you hiding from me?" She roared.

Glorfindel shook his head. "Come."


	10. A Scullery Pot and A Little Girl

**A Scullery Pot and a Little Girl **

Celoviel started to panic. The boy wasn't breathing, and she had no idea what to do. Her father had said if the boy came to danger, the tea would help. However the boy and his flinging caused the tea to be spilled. Whimpering, Lovie glanced around and her eyes rested on the small pot sitting beside the fire. Gasping suddenly, with renewed hope, Celoviel scrambled to her feet and ran over to the fire. Smiling ecstatically, she reached over and gripped the handle of the pot filled with the tea. Remembering her father had to boil the tea first in the pot, she almost skipped with pleasure at the sudden happiness that filled her.

She quickly poured half a cup of the liquid into the clay cup and placed the pot far out of the boy's way. Furrowing her brows she quickly gave the boy a stern glare as if daring him to spill its contents. Celoviel lifted the cup and pursed her lips thinking to herself how she was going to get the boy to drink now that he was still as a bone. Taking a deep breath, Celoviel lifted the boy's head slightly placing it into her lap, and used her free hand to try and open the mouth. Holding the cup high, she wrestled with the firmly clamped mouth in frustration. Finally the mouth opened slightly, and she smiled, lowering the cup to the boy's lips.

Remembering how her father had made Elrohir drink, she gently rubbed his throat, watching carefully as the liquid passed into the mouth and down the throat. She then closed the child's mouth and sat there pulling the damp hair off his forehead carefully, waiting for signs of life.

* * *

Erestor held up his hand quickly, causing Thranduil to skid to a stop just before colliding with the councilor. Frowning, Thranduil watched as Erestor cocked his head to the side listening for sounds that were out of place in the forest. Catching his breath, the King narrowed his eyes when guttural laughter reached his ears. His lip curled into a snarl, and he crouched down silently. Both elves glanced at each other in silent conversation. Orcs were near the borders of Rivendell. Nodding to each other once, the two elves darted off the path and into the trees quickly.

Figwit stopped startled when he saw Erestor and Thranduil scramble off the path. Galathil stumbled into him carelessly, and both elves tumbled to the ground in a heap.

"Warn me before stopping so suddenly, will you?" Galathil mumbled, pushing himself up onto his knees.

"I didn't do it on purpose." Figwit protested, rubbing his ankle. "You should have been paying attention."

"I was. You just decided to be an orc's butt and stop. How do you expect me to stop quick, while injured?"

Figwit turned his eyes and glared at his former mentor.

"Don't give me that look, young one." Galathil shook his finger at the dark haired elf.

Pushing himself to his feet, Figwit reached his hand down and helped Galathil to his feet. "I only stopped because the king and Erestor darted into the trees."

"Well say something befo-"Galathil stopped suddenly, turning his head to the side.

"Wh-?"

"Shush. Listen." Galathil whispered softly.

Figwit stood still, listening to the silence of the forest. Without warning, laughter, and a cry of agony drifted towards them on the wind. "Orcs." He mouthed.

Galathil nodded, and waved for Figwit to follow him. Both elves limped off the path and crouched in the bushes mere inches from where they had been standing. Seconds later an orc stopped precisely where they had been standing, and stood there looking around him snapping his jaws together.

Shivering from the evil that washed over them like a tidal wave, Figwit clamped his hand over his mouth. Even though he was a fully-grown adult, never before in his life had he had the opportunity to cross paths with an orc. The brown slashed skin, stitched together carelessly with metal clasps, almost caused him to release his morning meal. Puss and yellow mucus oozed out from the cuts and tears in the flesh. The orc's teeth were sharp and jagged, almost as though it had filed them to look more menacing. The stench that wafted up to the elf's nose, caused him to gag reflexively.

Galathil watched slightly amused at his charges reaction to the orc, and almost chuckled out loud. Remembering where they were, Galathil plugged his nose with his fingers and closed his eyes as the smell caused his eyes to water. They remained silent and still until the orc moved on down the path, sniffing the air like a hound after its prey.

Once the orc was out of earshot, Figwit whispered wiping the tears from his face. "Do they all smell so bad?"

Snorting with disgust, Galathil nodded, motioning for Figwit to follow behind him.

"It's going to take weeks for this stench to leave my nose, all my food is going to taste dreadful." Figwit whined.

"Stop bickering like an old maid." Galathil shook his head rolling his eyes skyward.

"How can you stand it?" Figwit moaned, rubbing his nose in disgust.

Snorting Galathil shook his head again. "I can't. I just learn to deal with it. Now be quiet." Turning and limping down the path, Galathil prayed to the Valar for patience.

Muttering under his breath, Figwit followed keeping his ears and eyes alert to danger. Rubbing his nose absently, he opened his mouth to breath rather then through his nose. His throat contracted from time to time, causing him to lick his lips disgusted. Shivering, he trudged through the foliage, glaring at his mentors back.

* * *

Glorfindel winced at the sharp pain that ran up his leg as Celebrían's heel connected with the bone. Hissing in pain, he let his guard down and loosened his hold on her. She turned as soon as her feet hit the floor and punched him square in the jaw. Reeling back from the blow, Glorfindel gaped. Raising his hand to his throbbing jaw, he frowned. Gripping her arm firmly, he pulled her fighting down the hall.

Snarling, she balled her fist again and jabbed at his arm.

Glorfindel's arm went numb instantly, and his fingers seemed almost to float apart.

Satisfied at her freedom, she whirled around and raced down the hall towards the room she felt her husband in. Scrambling over broken wood panels, she saw her husband crouched beside something small. Giving a cry of alarm, she ran over to her husband's side and fell to her knees. There was her son, unconscious. Looking at her husband and seeing him deep in his healing trance, Celebrían refrained from any sound that could distract him. She noticed a young elf also aiding in the healing. Sweat beaded on the youths forehead, and his face was scrunched up in what she would have called pain.

Elrond sensed his wife's presence beside him, as his fëa searched for his youngest. The silvery and gold strands were faded and thin, injury tightening them almost to the point of snapping. His son had stopped breathing, and Elrond quickly called out for Suiren. A smaller fea joined his, and both began to send strength towards the injured child.

* * *

A gasp caused her to jump startled. Crying out joyfully, Celoviel patted Elrohir's head. "Oh, goodness. That tea is wonderful stuff." She watched as Elrohir's eyes opened slowly. Glazed gray eyes met her blue ones, and seemed to dull in confusion. "It's ok. My father has gone to get your father. You will be ok as long as you don't stop breathing again."

Elrohir groaned, and turned his head to the side. Closing his eyes he drifted into sleep.

Babbling out her excitement, Celoviel didn't notice the boy falling asleep. She hummed softly to herself and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders waiting for her father to return. Her heart pounded nervously, as she sat by the small fire, which still roared furiously despite her father's words.

* * *

Thranduil lost sight of Erestor as he rounded a corner continuing to race towards the heavy laughter. Shaking his head in frustration he drew his sword and held it in front of him. The threat of spiders that now grew heavily in Mirkwood prepared him for whatever evil that lay ahead. The excitement of the chase thrilled him, and the speed at which he ran, drew a menacing smile upon his lips. His guards were close behind, he knew that much, but the freedom, even so brief was exhilarating.

Thranduil turned a corner, and almost ran right into Erestor who crouched beside a large tree. Giving the king a lengthy stare, Erestor shook his head knowingly. The king was excited. Smiling broadly, Erestor motioned for Thranduil to kneel beside him and both began their plans of attack.

* * *

Figwit rubbed his nose again. Grumbling to himself, he walked right into Galathil who had stopped suddenly. Stepping back he shrugged an apology. Noticing the prints on the ground he lifted his head quickly glancing around him nervously.

"Galathil? We are getting closer to their camp aren't we?" Figwit whispered barely above a whisper.

Galathil nodded silently. He placed his hand on Figwit's shoulder and placed a finger to his lips. "Don't say a word when we round the corner. Surprise is our best advantage."

Nodding, Figwit drew his short sword and held it out in front of him.

"Figwit." Galathil hissed. "Remember your training."

Nodding, Figwit lowered his weapon slightly so the tip pointed towards the ground.

Slowly the two elves rounded the corner, and tripped over two unsuspecting figures crouched beside the tree they had planned on hiding beside. Crying out startled, the four elves, jumped out of hiding, and directly into the orc encampment. All four elves stopped briefly, long enough to glance at each other then at the numerous orcs that had gotten to their feet quite surprised by their visitors.

"Good, another one! Get THEM!" One of the orcs pointed to the elves with rage, and the battle began.

"Figwit, watch my back." Galathil barked, charging into the fray despite his injuries.

Choking back his curses, Figwit raced behind him, swinging his sword at pretty much anything that moved, smelled, and looked rather brown in his eyes.

Cursing, Thranduil raced after the two injured elves, and swung his great broad sword, blocking a swing to his head. Crying out with rage, Thranduil sliced through orc after orc, trying to catch up to the two younger elves in front of him.

Erestor watched silently, scanning the area with his eyes, noticing the three elves were handling themselves quite well. His blue eyes landed on a prone figure bound hand and foot behind a rock. Fear gripped his heart, and snarling, he gripped his sword racing towards the prisoner. Spinning on his heels, he ducked under a sword, and sliced through the hamstrings of the orc who had tried to behead him.

Jumping over the now writhing and flailing orc, he scrambled to the side of the prisoner. "Easy, now." He hissed. His eyes caught sight of four orcs racing from the clearing towards the river, and cursed loudly.

"No." The elf whispered. "My daughter, Elrond's son. That way." He gasped out his words before unconsciousness took him.

Cursing even louder. Erestor called out to Thranduil who was still madly cutting down orcs, snarling fierily.

Thranduil nodded grinning madly. "Go!"

Spinning on his heels, Erestor began his pursuit after the orcs.

* * *

Celoviel lifted her head as the sounds of ringing reached her ears. Stunned and bewildered, she stood up and tilted her head to the side. Gasping suddenly, she gulped fearfully. Loud footsteps approached the camp. Frozen with fear, she stood there wrapped tightly in her blanket. She remained motionless as the footfalls became louder and louder and shouts of anger and madness filled her every sense with fear. 


	11. Waking Realities

**Chapter Ten Waking Realities**

Silence filled the air around her as she searched with her eyes. Birds stopped chirping, the owls stopped their hoots for small prey, and even the songs of the trees became quiet as the thudding of footsteps became greater. For a brief moment her heart stopped, fear taking over every sense of wisdom and logic she had been taught over her years. Shaking her head furiously, her fathers' words came back to her in a rush, causing her to race back to the fire to retrieve the small dagger and knuckler her father had left.

Branches snapped near the campsite, and with all haste, she ran back to the boys' side. Narrowing her eyes she snarled quietly as instinct took over. Survival was the first thing on her mind now, as the sense of danger grew closer.

* * *

Erestor flew after the orcs, knowing they were on the hunt of something that had grabbed their uncanny sense of smell. He knew what they were after, and he was not about to let them succeed in their feral race for new blood.

Erestor knew that he was not alone in his pursuit, and for that he was grateful. Picking up his pace, he flew through the trees, his instincts from his forest birth home coming back to him with every footfall he made. Rounding a corner, he approached a clearing and caught a glimpse of two orcs running towards the west where they would surely be caught unawares. Roaring with fury, Erestor took on the remaining two who frantically ripped apart bedding and cooking ware for something of value. Taken by surprise, the orcs within the camp had no time to react against the fury of the warrior who raised his sword swiftly and accurately.

Erestor sliced through the air with his gleaming sword and took the two orcs down within a space of a breath. Standing there slightly disappointed, he lowered his sword and cocked his head to the side when two faint cries from the distance drifted into the clearing on the wind. Nodding once satisfied, he looked over the now destroyed camp instantly knowing that two small children were here. His heart pounded fearfully, searching with his eyes, swallowing against the slight horrifying images that filled his mind.

Before he could begin to make sense of the surrounding areas, images of two small children, broken and torn to bits filled his brain. Frantically, he tore bedding from the ground, anxiously searching with all his senses. He stopped quickly, and cocked his head to the side. A soft whimper reached his ears. He wasn't imaging it. Standing straight, he whistled to the other hunters for aid in finding the source of the faint cries.

Within minutes, Figwit entered the clearing holding a small girl in his arms. Her eyes were red from tears and fear, and her face was pallid. Another elf entered the clearing cradling a small elfling gently in his arms, a look of worry marring his face. Choking back a cry, Erestor scrambled forward and knelt down beside the young elf, who placed Elrohir down on the packed earth.

Gentle fingers drifted over the small-injured boy. Analyzing the damage to Elrond's son, Erestor barked out commands, for his hunters to travel to Rivendell for aid. Elrohir was too injured for travel. Broken ribs bruised the boys' chest. Purple and black marks surrounded the upper frame, the most painful looking one right above the boys' collarbone. A large gash on Elrohir's head caused Erestor to gasp in fear. Looking further down Elrohir, Erestor noticed the seriously broken legs, that would cause the child great pain in healing fully. If the bones were not set soon the small elfling would be left with a slight limp causing him trouble in the future. Closing his eyes, Erestor prayed to the Valar for strength. He needed to be strong for the son of Elrond, if he were to be any help whatsoever. A whistle caused Erestor to lift his head, as Thranduil and Galathil stumbled into the clearing. They carried the unconscious elf to the fireside and stood back shocked at the condition of Elrohir. Hissing fearfully, Thranduil knelt down beside Erestor his eyes never leaving the small boys tattered body.

Lifting his hand, the king of Mirkwood rested it gently on Elrohir's forehead and smoothed back the blood soaked hair. Taking a deep breath, he tore his tunic off and dipped the corner in a small pot near the fire. Gently he wiped away the blood and dirt from the boys face, his mind set on cleaning at least a few of the wounds. Being a father himself he felt the throbbing of his heart seeing a child so young a full of lift in such a state, caused to think back on his own family who were safe in his homeland. Sitting back on his heels, Thranduil shook his head as comprehension dawned on him.

He glanced at Erestor confused. "They look so alike. Twins?" He whispered fearing to disturb the quiet around them.

Nodding Erestor squeezed the cloth in his hands, and pressed it gently to the gash in Elrohir's head. The wound had scabbed over, slowing the bleeding, but as soon as the water touched it, the wound began to flow freely.

Cursing aloud, Erestor put pressure on the wound to ebb the flow of blood. Silent tears filled his eyes as he felt helplessness take over him. "I do not know what to do." He whispered glancing over at the king.

Thranduil shook his head lost for words. They were helpless. Silently they attended the small elfling who needed so much attention and love from those around him. Erestor and Thranduil didn't notice the little girl who knelt beside her father, fresh tears running down her face at the sight of Celanos.

* * *

Elrond felt the warriors return before they had entered the courtyard, and instantly he knew they had come for him. His son had been found. With a gentle nod to the healer still locked furiously with his eldest son, Elrond stood and motioned for Gandalf to remain with his wife until his return. Celebrían was far from happy when he ran out of the room, but with all haste retreated before she could utter words of protest.

It took Elrond less time to run down the steps then it did for his hunters to enter the house, and he barked his orders for them to follow him. Stunned the warriors followed their lord through the courtyard. Somehow, Elrond knew exactly where he was headed. Right outside the borders of Imladris.

* * *

Galathil watched sadly as Thranduil and Erestor cleaned Elrohir's wounds. The state the small boy was in was dreadful. The wounds appeared to be painful, which was why the child had yet to waken. Elrohir was in immense pain and was suffering greatly. The only safe place the son of Elrond knew, was inside his fëa. Galathil felt tears well up in his eyes. Elven children were so rare these days that when one was born, great festivities were given to celebrate. The darkness of the world was too great for the elves to even consider bringing a small child into a world of hatred and war.

Shaking his head, he glanced away. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he nodded glumly as Figwit attempted to comfort him. Taking a deep breath, Galathil was becoming increasingly aware of the growing discomfort of his broken or cracked ribs. Raising his arm, he wiped the tears out of his eyes, and walked away from the small group. He couldn't stand there helplessly and watch an elfling, especially a student of his pass from this world in front of him. Leaning against a nearby tree, Galathil waited and silently watched for danger. He needed to take his mind off the situation, before he went crazy from growing grief. Smiling softly, he knew he loved the boy as he would one of his own children. Having never been bound to anyone, or having children of his own, Galathil knew all his students were like his own children. Loosing one in battle, or injuries he knew he would never get over the feeling of loss.

Figwit watched sadly as Galathil wandered to the edge of the camp, silently scanning the area for danger. He knew the lessons master was close with his students and had also lost many in battle. He remembered the care and devotion Galathil gave everyone of his students. Nothing ever caused him to sway from the importance of safety, or teaching his students the proper sword techniques. His teacher had always been attentive of aches and pains of growing muscles, hints towards soothing those aches. Always giving without asking for anything in return.

Figwit knew his teacher needed someone to talk to. However, Figwit had no idea how to comfort his teacher, nor to reassure him that Elrohir would be all right. He was unsure of it himself. Lifting his head suddenly, his thoughts momentarily paused, Figwit quickly smiled relieved that Elrond had arrived.

Turning around quickly, he raced to the edge of the campsite and waited anxiously for the Lord to enter. Within moments, Elrond rounded the corner at a dead run, and passed Figwit with a wave of his hand, motioning him to follow. Galathil was beside them instantly.

Elrond fell to his knees beside his son and choked back a cry of despair. The small figure of his son so wounded caused tears to form in his eyes. Laying his hand on Elrohir's chest, Elrond searched with his fëa for the twins' connection. Almost instantly he found it, weak and thready. They were holding onto each other with all their strength, neither letting go as Elrond gently eased the tension. Feeling a sigh of relief, Elrond felt his eldest son release Elrohir and grin impishly.

* * *

Elladan knew his brother was now in good hands and headed back to his own injured and tattered body. Elrohir's fëa turned instantly to his father for safety. Elrond calmly and gently pulled Elrohir to consciousness, and waited patiently for his son to waken.

The eyes fluttered slowly, then opened with a small moan of protest. Elrond gently eased the stress on his son and helped him with some of the pain. Grey eyes met his blue ones, confused and frightened. Whispering softly, Elrond called to the Valar for aid. His sons' injuries were beyond his skills, and he needed help. Silently, Elrond felt a strong presence beside him rest their hands upon his to aid in his task. He knew who it was, and smiling softly, gathered all his strength lending it to his helper.

Elrond opened his eyes seemingly minutes later, only to discover that it had been for a better part of the afternoon, to see his sons colour deepen to a healthy glow. Galathil, who knelt beside him swallowed and staggered to his feet. Startled, Elrond lifted his head and noticed that it was the lessons master who had aided him in healing some of his sons' injuries. He watched horrified as Galathil stumbled then fell to the ground in a crumpled heap. Jumping to his feet, Elrond raced to Galathil's side and searched for a pulse. Sighing in relief, Elrond found one, faint and erratic, but strong.

Calling out to the men around them, Elrond ordered that litters be made to transport the injured back to the safety of Rivendell. Closing his eyes, Elrond knew that there was no healing wing left to treat the injured, but perhaps just enough to heal those who still lived. Feeling defeated, Elrond stood and watched silently as litters were constructed quickly, and he turned his head and caught a nod from the King of Mirkwood. Rubbing his eyes, he walked over to his long time friend.

"How do they fare, Elrond?" The king asked.

Nodding, he whispered. "They live, but I do not know what I will do once I am home."

Raising an eyebrow, Thranduil looked at Elrond. "I don't understand."

"Nothing is left of Imladris, my friend. I do not have the tools to heal everyone, nor the space now to house them till they are well enough on their own."

Pursing his lips, Thranduil nodded. Walking away from the preoccupied lord, the king motioned for one of his hunters. Whispering into his ear, he smiled briefly and watched the young elf race from the clearing with two others in hot pursuit. Walking back to the group, Thranduil lifted one end of the smallest litter carrying Elrohir, and waited until Elrond grabbed the other end. Slowly, they walked across dirt paths towards Rivendell, or what was left of the beautiful city. It was bound to be a long night, and long painful few years to rebuild Imladris to its splendour.


	12. Rebuilding Through The Ruins

**Chapter Eleven Rebuilding Through the Ruins **

Elrond pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking rapidly on the condition of his son. Elrohir was currently sleeping soundly, but earlier that day he had been tossing his head back and forth crying out softly. The lord of Imladris knew his son was in pain and needed to rest, but the rough terrain was not helping the situation. Celanos was also not doing so well. There was a huge gash on the side of his head, and a rather nasty lump at the back. He had not regained consciousness since they had found him amongst the orcs.

Elrond glanced around and took in the other faces of his party. Little Celoviel was seated silently beside her father, tears running down her face, and holding his hand in a comforting manner. Galathil was located on a litter under a make shift tent. His face was pale from the healing drain, and this baffled Elrond. The lessons master was being taken care of by Figwit and Thranduil, so Elrond could concentrate on his sons' condition.

A small whimper caused Elrond to turn his head towards Elrohir once again. Beads of sweat covered the small child's fore head, and the lord quickly knelt down placing his hand upon his small head. Elrohir's fever had risen and earned Elrond some worry. A guard caught his attention with a shrill whistle. Raising his head, Elrond ran to the hill where his guards were standing keeping a vigil eye out on approaching danger.

Elrond lifted his hand to block the sun from his eyes and glanced over towards the horizon where a thin dark cloud rose up from the ground reaching towards the grey sky. Hissing, Elrond cast a wary glance in Erestor's direction.

Nodding his head, Erestor pushed away from the tree he was leaning against and sprinted off into the forest without a single glance behind him. Elrond watched his disappearance silently. Once Erestor was gone, Elrond returned to his sons side. Even despite Elrond's attempts to calm the raging fever his son was emanating, the heat that lingered on the small head worried him. Nothing Elrond did ceased the fever, nor helped to decrease it. Taking a deep breath, Elrond pulled out his healing belt, he needed to get his sons condition under control.

A shrill whistle from the distance caused Elrond's blood to turn cold. He glanced up towards the direction Erestor had taken and held his breath. If another whistle sounded the situation was under control, however if a whistle sounded followed by a series of short chirps, meant danger was imminent. It seemed like hours drifted by as Elrond waited for a sign. Then the whistle came, followed by others, causing Elrond to jump up swiftly barking out orders.

"We need to get the injured to safety." Elrond was cut off before he could finish as Erestor charged into the clearing.

"No time, milord! Orcs come." Erestor held his long sword out in front of him spinning around towards the way he had just emerged. "They are many." The advisor crouched low holding his sword out menacingly.

"Make a circle around the injured. Keep them safe." Elrond stepped away from his son and cast a look down on him. Elrohir was tightly bound in a blanket, and beside the fire. Elrond prayed silently to the Valar. "Erestor, tell me."

"Orcs and wargs, Elrond, lots of them." The advisor hissed.

"How far?" Branches snapped causing Elrond to turn his head back towards the forest. He knew his answer immediately as the first force broke through the trees into the clearing. Elrond roared with anger, swinging his sword. The group of elves used deadly force to try and push back the mound of orcs that rushed at them. It was like a tidal wave against a small sapling in spring.

Thranduil growled deep in his throat as his sword sliced through the orc in front of him. He twisted his wrist slightly making the sword spin into another orc beside the first. A rush of air behind him made him duck and jab the sword backwards into another foe. Thranduil grinned widely and the deep-throated noise that issued from his larynx almost sounded like a purr.

Figwit winced as his injuries were jarred by the orcs who swarmed all over him. His wounds slowed his speed, and the orcs seemed to know it immediately when he faltered beneath the attack. The dark haired elf fell back against the trunk of a tree and an orc gripped him tightly by the throat, growling with contempt. A sharp pain sliced into his gut and he choked against the hand that held his throat. All Figwit could utter was a small squeak of protest as the hand tightened on his throat restricting even more air from entering his lungs. Suddenly, the orc who held him widened his eyes and fell. Looking up, Figwit noticed a pair of gleaming blue eyes filled with rage.

Thranduil nodded once, and turned once again towards the onslaught of orcs. Figwit glanced down as his strength ebbed. A large hole in his gut, caused him to hiss and fall to his knees, as soon as his head hit the packed earth, he lost consciousness.

Thranduil glanced briefly over his shoulder, noticing the young elf falling to the ground. Immediately, he noticed Figwit was injured. Roaring with renewed strength, Thranduil charged at his enemies knowing if the remaining elves that were uninjured fell, there would be no hope for them.

Elrond leapt back as a sword aimed for his gut. He planted his feet firmly on the ground and pointed his sword upward as an orc fell onto it not expecting the attack. Elrond glanced once over his shoulder in his sons direction and noticed a warg sniffing around the fire. Crying out fearfully, Elrond sliced through the air at the orcs who suddenly washed towards him. He gasped out a plea to his advisor who was closer.

"Erestor, Elrohir!" A sharp blow to his chest caused him to fly backwards and fall to the ground hard.

The dark haired advisor heard his lord issue his plea and glanced around looking for the imminent danger. Then he saw it. A black wiry warg approached his lords son who lay by the fire unsuspecting. Leaping over the orc who died under his sword, Erestor flew towards the dark misshapen beast that now stood beside the small elfling.

The orcs seemed to know his path, and attempted to block every part between the fire and Erestor. Growling in panic, Erestor caught a glimpse of Thranduil who was fighting his own battle. Pushing with all his might, Erestor cut through the orcs who appeared in front of him preventing him from reaching the lords son.

Elrond jumped to his feet and roared with renewed anger and raced towards his son. Too late however, to prevent the warg from snapping its teeth on the small arm and dragging it towards the forest. Not a sound issued from his son as he was dragged towards the forests edge. Crying a desperate plea to anyone, Elrond felt a sickening cold slip into his side. Yelping, Elrond looked down and saw a sword and a hand. Looking up, Elrond looked into a pair of yellow eyes. 'Oh Valar, this is it!'

Thranduil, gasped when he saw Elrond fall under the orcs sword. He looked around him and noticed his remaining guards trying to get towards their king. Barking out a command, he turned and raced towards the trees where he would have an advantage. His captain turned facing the warg who darted into the trees. Snarling with rage, the elf guard sprinted after it, and flew into the trees above him for a better vantage point.

* * *

Celebrían knew something was wrong when she felt her skin crawl. She glanced down at her son whose face turned pale before her very eyes. Startled, she placed her fingers on Elladan's throat searching for a pulse and found one that was slowly growing fainter.

Looking up with tears forming in her eyes, she looked at Gandalf who stood there transfixed on looking out the window. Suddenly, Gandalf seemed to grow in a white light and she had to shield her eyes from the brightness.

* * *

Glorfindel raced into the room and hissed covering his eyes when he heard a loud rumble. He feared another quake, and groaned. The ground lurched forcefully to the side, and Glorfindel lost his footing. His head slammed into the hard floor and he cried out in pain. The golden haired elf lord was getting tired of banging his head. Cursing, he attempted to stand to reach Celebrían and failed when the floor shot up into the air and fell beneath him. His arms flailed around for something to grab and found nothing. In the distance he heard a woman scream, and then he knew no more.

He heard whimpers beside him and he painfully opened his eyes. Gasping, he caught sight of his daughter who curled up in his arms. Groaning, Celanos sniffed the air and a foul smell itched at his senses. "Oh, Varda!" He groaned. His daughter sniffed and looked up quickly.

"Ada!" She whispered. "Ada, ugly things are fighting."

Celanos, despite his injuries, attempted to rise onto his elbows. His bones creaked in protest, and he fought the urge to fall back. To his horror, the clearing was filled with orcs, many of them. Gasping out, he whispered to his daughter.

"Pass me a sword, daughter. Then run into the woods and hide."

Shaking her head, she whispered. "Nay Ada, I will not leave you."

"Do as I say!" He hissed.

Reluctantly, Celoviel passed him a short sword that lay on the ground only feet away from her and passed it to him. He gripped it tightly, and with his other hand grabbed her arm and hissed in a commanding tone. "Run, as fast as you can to Rivendell, do not stop until you reach the borders. Do you understand?"

Nodding, she stood up quickly and darted into the woods. Watching his daughter run to safety, eased his troubled thoughts. Pushing himself up into a sitting position, Celanos slowly stood and wavered slightly. Something pushed him to the ground from behind and he heard snarling beside his ear. Immobilizing himself immediately, he didn't have a chance to cry out when a sickening crunch filled his ears and he saw no more.

Sounds filled his ears, and he remained still as his thoughts cleared. Then gasping silently, he remembered him helping Elrond heal his son. Weakened, Galathil cracked open an eye to cautiously cast a glance around him. To his utter horror he noticed the state the encampment was in. Elrond lay immobile by his side, eyes closed injured. Carefully, he rolled onto his side to see the orcs start gathering their captives. Narrowing his eyes, Galathil reached out for the bow that lay unnoticed by Elrond's hand. He slowly, inched his hand towards the quiver and pulled an arrow out with such slowness that it would have appeared to anyone looking around that nothing remained alive within the camp. Remaining on his side, Galathil notched the arrow and pulled back pointing the bow slightly upwards to catch one orc in the back of the head. Grinning, he released the bow with a twang and the orc fell before uttering a single word. Narrowing his eyes again, Galathil remained motionless to see if any other orcs would notice and apparently they didn't. Too intent on picking through the scattered packs, they didn't realize anything amiss until almost half of them were dead. Several of the orcs cried out in rage as they stood looking for the attack. Confused, they stood there looking into the trees not noticing Galathil upon the ground. Another orc fell with an arrow protruding from between his eyes. The orcs whirled around and then finally saw him. But not before Galathil had notched another arrow and let it loose catching another orc in the chest. Arrow after arrow flew from his deft fingers catching the orcs off guard and falling beneath his skilled attacks. Before too long, the final orc gripped his throat and pulled him upward. Snarling with rage, Galathil pulled a dagger from his boot and growled. "Try this on for size!"

The dagger sliced through the orcs gut spilling out his stomach contents before being able to utter a word. Falling to the ground on his hands and knees, Galathil looked around him in horror. What had happened? Crawling on his hands and knees, the lessons master fell beside Elrond in a heap exhausted from his energy drain to help anymore.


	13. Something Stirs in the Wind

**Chapter Twelve Something Stirs in the Wind**

He opened his eyes groggily. Vaguely, he remembered waking amidst horror, pain and fear. Somehow waking now appeared no better as his eyes fell upon a familiar face lying close to his. Frowning confused at first, he attempted to roll over and groaned in the process. Closing his eyes against the strain, Galathil shuddered at the sick feeling that edged up from his stomach. Swallowing hard, Galathil slowly pushed himself up onto his elbows and glanced around him. It appeared as though everyone were sleeping, for no one stirred in the stillness of the night. Pale blue from the stars glittered and filled the camp in a dim light, casting everything in shadow. Trees seemed to loom overhead menacingly. Shaking his head, Galathil sat up. Evil had been bestowed upon them.

Pushing himself to his knees, Galathil edged towards Elrond's side, and felt for a pulse. It was there, faint and erratic. The wounds the elf lord held were ones to be desired. Elrond would definitely be feeling pain when he woke. Shaking his head, Galathil heard sword clashes outside the encampment, and he stumbled to his feet, his hand gripping a long sword tightly. Limping to the tree line, Galathil let out a sigh of relief when he heard Thranduil's guards roaring with victory.

He shook his head once again trying to loosen the fog that filled it. Galathil took a battle stance when he heard a roar of orcs fill the air. Growling with rage, Galathil waited for the orcs to come crashing through the tree line, but stood tall when Thranduil and his men walked out of them instead. Wiping his sword, Thranduil nodded at Galathil striding up to him grinning.

"How are the others?" Thranduil asked placing his sword in its scabbard, before gripping Galathil's shoulder.

Shaking his head, Galathil nudged his head in Elrond's direction. "I only checked Elrond. His heart still beats. Where is his son?" Galathil asked glancing at the empty blanket by the fire.

"Erestor carries him." Thranduil stepped to the side to glance at the tree line. "He was taken by a warg, but the beast did not get far." Turning his head to look at Galathil, he grinned.

Horrified, Galathil raised his eyebrows. "Is he hurt?"

Thranduil shook his head. "No more then he was when we found him. He does have a bite mark on his arm, but that should quickly heal with his elven blood."

* * *

Glorfindel groaned as he came to. His body ached, and he felt something warm lying on top of him. Cautiously, he moved his arm to touch the warmth and found it to be a body. Cracking open his eye, he saw Celebrían. Pushing himself up onto his elbows, Glorfindel shook her shoulder carefully. A moan of protest gave him a bit of relief.

"Milady. Wake." Glorfindel whispered.

Almost instantly, she was wide-awake and glancing around her horrified. "Where is Elladan?"

Shaking his head, he tilted his head back to look up to where they had fallen. "Look." He nodded his head to the upper level. "Fear not, Mithrandir has taken watch over him."

Glorfindel felt Celebrían sigh in relief. Wincing, Glorfindel sat up and put his arm around her as tears welled up in her eyes. "Do not cry. We are safe."

She glared at him. "Safe?" She spread her arms out. "How do you call this safe? My home is destroyed. My son is missing; my other child is injured and may not live. My husband is out there somewhere. The earth shakes with anger at some evil that has presented itself, many have died? Safe?" She shook her head angrily. "Nay, this is not safe, this is horror!" She stood and limped out of the room before Glorfindel could protest.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself up to his feet, and followed her out of the room. 'Elrond I do not envy you.' Glorfindel thought to himself. 'To anger your wife is worse then any evil I have stumbled across.'

* * *

Thranduil pursed his lips in thought. There were too many injured for them to carry, and Elrohir needed healing herbs. The childs face was pale and pallid. Thranduil knew that the fever had grown and there was nothing he could do. Closing his eyes, the elven king prayed that his guards would return with news on their travels.

Opening his eyes, Thranduil took in the camp. Galathil was seated beside Celanos, who was now lying on his back. The bite at his throat was now covered with a tunic that had been torn to shreds. Blood had stopped pouring out of the wound. Completely unaware, Celanos lay there, but his daughter was nowhere to be found. Thranduil had sent his guards out into the woods to find her, and waited patiently for their return.

Erestor was seated beside Elrohir, continually wiping the childs head with a damp cool cloth to lighten the fever. The bite mark had been carefully cleaned and wrapped. Glancing down towards his feet, Thranduil, took in Elrond's condition and shook his head helplessly. The Mirkwood king hoped his good friend; Siralda would arrive soon to help heal those who were in dire need of it.

Shaking his head, Thranduil stood up and wandered over to Galathil, placing his hand on his shoulder, he nodded his head and pointed to the sleep roll that was beside him. "Take some rest. You will need it before this evil is done."

"Do you know what it is?" Galathil asked reaching over for the bedroll.

"No, but I suspect that someone back in Imladris knows." The king answered looking out into the woods. "Sleep. Tomorrow we head back to Rivendell."

"How will we carry everyone back?" Galathil asked unrolling the blanket and spreading it out beside him.

Looking down at the lessons master, Thranduil grinned. "I will make my guards help." He shrugged.

Smiling, the lessons master lowered himself onto his bedroll and sighed. "I forgot how much I disliked lying on the ground." He grumbled.

"Just be thankful you are not lying beneath a tree." Came the amused reply.

"Very funny."

* * *

Celebrían shoved her way through the rubble, up the stairs towards the room where her son was. Mithrandir stood protectively beside him an aura of light around them both. A look of anger passed over the wizards face as he concentrated on whatever foe he saw.

"Mithrandir, who is this foe that threatens us so?" She asked looking up at his unmoving form. Frowning, she received no reply from him, and she sat there watching him as he fought with this unseen evil.

Glorfindel limped into the room and silently watched Celebrían glare at Mithrandir, her hands folded in her lap waiting for a reply. She was stubborn and would wait all day and all night if she had to for an answer. Leaning against what was left of the doorframe, he frowned when a sound from outside filled his senses. Pushing himself away from what used to be a door, he walked to the window and glanced out seeing a small girl racing towards the stairs with tears in her eyes.

Quickly looking at the people in the room, Glorfindel knew that they were safe for the time being and he hopped out of the window to the ground to catch up with the little elfling who raced through the courtyard. He whispered softly, so not to startle the frightened girl. She stopped and whimpered. She caught sight of the blond haired elf and fresh tears fell from her eyes. Instantly she raced towards him and flung herself in his arms.

Taken by surprise, Glorfindel wrapped his arms around her and picked her up. "There, there. Where are your parents?" He whispered into her ear.

"Ada is with Lord Elrond. They are all fighting with monsters." More tears welled up in her eyes and a sob escaped her lips.

"Monsters?" He whispered confused.

She nodded and buried her head on his shoulder.

A shiver ran up his spine. Glorfindel knew something terrible had happened to Elrond and his companions, and not wanting to worry the little elfling in his arms, he allowed for his eyes to wander in the direction she had raced from. He kept his face void of emotion, and carried her towards the remains of the house of Elrond. Whistling through the window, Glorfindel passed the small girl up to Celebrían who stood there surprised.

"I will return shortly." Glorfindel nodded and headed towards the stables that once stood tall and proud, but which sat in shambles now. Quickly kicking away some of the broken pieces of wood, Glorfindel found what he was searching for. There sat a long sword still within its scabbard. Picking it up and strapping it to his back, Glorfindel began his search for his long time friend.

* * *

Thranduil sat on what was fast becoming his usual seating place. It was a rather large grey boulder that stood near the base of a great birch tree. Glancing up, he sighed. How he wished he were at home with his wife and child, rather then amongst this horror and devastation. He longed to be next to a fire, set in his hearth within his bedchambers, sitting in his large chair, with a glass of miruvor. Listening to the sounds of his people laughing, dancing and singing. Shaking his head, Thranduil knew he had to wait until he saw his home again. He needed to help his friend out in whatever means he could. If that meant he had to stay in Imladris until the great refuge had been rebuilt then that is what he would do.

Thranduil wished he had answers to the sudden devastation that had befallen the peaceful city. In fact he wished he had answers to the sudden appearance of spiders in his once beautiful woods. Glancing around him, he noticed that Elrohir was suddenly moving his head back and forth. Standing up, he walked over to where the small elfling lay, and knelt down beside him.

"Hey little one. Open your eyes." Thranduil whispered.

The eyelids fluttered slightly, and a small whimper erupted from the childs mouth.

"It's alright. Everyone is safe. Nothing frightening is here." Thranduil whispered again more encouraging.

"Ella." Came the tiny whispered voice. Sighing, the elfling slipped back into a deep slumber.

Closing his eyes, Thranduil took a deep breath and returned to his place on the boulder. He wasn't sure how long he sat there for, but his ears picked up the slightest sound that anyone could have missed. Frowning, he drew his sword and stood up from his uncomfortable seat. Facing the direction in which the sound had come from, Thranduil stood and waited patiently for the foe or ally to make itself known.

To his surprise, the one person he was not expecting was the one who came through the thicket.

"Glorfindel!" Thranduil exclaimed.

The golden haired elf lord nodded and took in the surrounding area. "What happened here?" He muttered, horror reflecting in his deep blue eyes.

"We were attacked." Thranduil sighed.

Glorfindel glanced around the camp and caught sight of the small elfling by the fire. "Elrohir?" He quickly crossed the distance and knelt down beside Elrond's son. He felt the childs neck and found a pulse, faint and erratic. Looking up to the Mirkwood king, Glorfindel raised his eyebrows in question. "Where is Elrond?"

Thranduil pointed to where the elf lord lay under a lean to. "There."

Gasping, Glorfindel shot to his feet and almost ran to the Peredhil. "I want some answers." The former lord of Gondolin snarled, seeing the condition Elrond was in.

Thranduil knew that the lords Glorfindel and Elrond were close. Nodding, he waved the golden haired elf lord to his boulder. Before Thranduil could start, one of his guards came shooting out of the thicket. "Milord!"

Thranduil stood quickly. "What is it?"

"Something evil comes!" The guard lowered his right hand, which was covered in blood. The space where his hand had been was drenched in the elf's blood. Suddenly, the guards eyes rolled into the back of his head and he crumpled to the ground in front of his king.

Horrified, Thranduil knelt and felt for a pulse. His guards fëa had flown to the halls of waiting. Gasping, the king stood and glanced at Glorfindel.

Narrowing his eyes, the Balrog slayer stood at ready, he sword drawn waiting for whatever evil plunged through the forest that surrounded them. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"

Thranduil smiled, and nodded, never noticing, Elrond's other companions, Erestor, and Galathil moving in beside them. It wasn't until the king heard a snarl from one of them, that he turned his head slightly and nodded at their presence.

"This seems familiar doesn't it?" Erestor growled.

"They will not over come us this time, advisor. I have a feeling that the outcome of this battle will be held in the highest regards of the Valar. Whatever evil has escaped into these calm woods, shall not hinder us for long."

Nodding, the four elves stood there, battle ready. Waiting for either death or triumph. Swords gleaming, eyes narrowed, and glinting with rage, the four elders stood there with their battle ready experience being their only hope for this last final fight.


	14. Filtering Images of the Past

**Chapter Thirteen Filtering Images of a Past**

As he stood there at ready for a fight, sudden images fluttered through his mind. They were images of the past, faint, quick, and filled with rage. He winced at first as the first of many bombarded his mind.

Almost recoiling against the wave, Glorfindel stood there watching the pictures. At first they were like ripples in water, then became clear. A reflection of himself, an eidetic image, only slightly different in his appearance, then he was on this day. Not so much though to cause great confusion as to who he was looking at, but enough to know that the images within his mind were before he was reborn.

Gulping against the waves that were filled with intensity, Glorfindel watched in horror as his memories relived the past. _He stood there beside a tall elf, golden hair shimmering in the slivers of sunlight, dark clouds above cutting the sunlight in half, making the beams smaller and more menacing then they should have been. The air was cool and crisp._ He felt himself shiver in memory. _White pillars stood tall, flags of their houses rippling against the breeze, sometimes slapping against their poles in anger. Sometimes almost falling downward as the air stopped then shot up again in a fury. He held a spear in his hand watching the horizon for something. Glancing at the elf beside him, he almost choked when he realized who stood beside him. The face so angry and yet recognizable that he was guilty for ever forgetting his long time friend. There beside him stood Ecthelion. _

_Glorfindel felt his breath come in gasps; they were short and quick, and filled with anxiety. As he exhaled, he saw his breath exit his mouth as the warm air collided with the cold of the morning. His body felt taunt, something was coming, but he couldn't remember what. He knew, as he glanced around him to the many buildings that no longer stood, that everyone was ready for a great battle. It was almost ghost like as he stood upon the old foundations of Gondolin. _

_He felt himself whisper something to the elf beside him, but he couldn't hear himself or know exactly what he had said. He felt peace come over him as Ecthelion smiled and nodded in confirmation to whatever he had said. He looked downward, and felt his body shrivel up as he caught sight of a small child playing in the courtyard. Horrified, Glorfindel felt himself turn and race down the stairs, the voice of Ecthelion following him confused. Crying out, Glorfindel raced with all the speed his body could muster. _

_As he broke through the archway, into the courts yard, he felt his body freeze with fear. They had come. Looking up into the sky, Glorfindel saw what he had hoped to forget. The balrogs had entered their city. Gulping back the wave of fear and uncertainty, Glorfindel saw himself launch at the child. Looking at him more intently, as he raced with the child locked under his arm, he knew this child to be the son of Idril and Tuor. Tucked safely under his arm was the small child, Eärendil. He felt himself tighten his hold on the boy as he ran. Briefly he heard Ecthelion cry down to him and he slowly glanced over his shoulder. A balrog was flying right for him. Terrified, Glorfindel felt his feet move faster. He wasn't exactly sure how he was able to pick up more speed when he knew he was running as fast as his legs were able. But somehow, the adrenaline caused him to move even faster then was possible. Glorfindel glanced toward the archway and saw Idril's horrified face as she saw her child in danger. Shaking his head, Glorfindel launched the child into her arms, and shoved her ahead of him, crying out something to her, but not knowing what._

_Then without warning, he heard a small dinging sound. He knew it was a bell. Suddenly a wave of sounds echoed through his brain and he almost flinched at the intensity of the contrast. From utter silence to a sudden break in sound, Glorfindel was sure his eardrums would burst. _

_"Go, Go, Go, Go!" He heard himself shout. Screams echoed through the halls of Gondolin, and crashing of pillars around them reverberated. The ground exploded around them in a ring of fire as the roof came in. Idril's scream sounded louder then the pillars falling around them. Out of nowhere, Tuor raced beside them, sword in hand ready to fight._

_"NO!" Glorfindel heard himself shout. "Run!" Glorfindel knew he had stopped briefly to push at Tuor, and then continued running behind them, his only thought was their safety. "To the mountain path!" He heard himself cry._

_They ran out of the gates of Gondolin. Glorfindel knew his death was imminent, and he knew that his old friend Ecthelion would never be seen again. As he watched himself run, they climbed the mountain paths, and came to a base where the path spilt into two. One led to a cave on the right, the other was to the left in the open. _

_Glorfindel pointed. "There, inside, run until you reach the other side." He shouted above the rumble of destruction. _

_Tuor had turned and nodded his thanks. "Come with us." He had said._

_Shaking his head, Glorfindel shoved at Tuor. "Inside, these beasts will hunt everyone down. If they find you, they will kill you, amongst flames and pain. Go! It has been a pleasure knowing your family." Shoving Tuor inside the caves entrance, Glorfindel turned around and saw smoke rise. A balrog had found him._

_"Now you foul beast, let us see how you muster against a fury to save life." Glorfindel spat as the balrog flew into view. The beast roared angrily, fire and smoke rising from the body._

_Glorfindel felt the heat off the beast, no longer concerned with the chill in the air; he felt his body break out in sweat. Gripping the shield that was strapped on his back, he held it in front of him. The beast screeched and blew fire at him. The elf felt his shield heat up against the fire, and it burned his arm. Wincing against the burns, he flung himself at the balrog flicking his spear at the beast in anger. The spear to his surprise snapped and fell from his numb fingers. _

_Growling with fear and rage, Glorfindel gripped his long sword and held that out, using intense force to strike. The balrog screeched in anger as a great gaping wound appeared when the sword was withdrawn._

_Fire erupted from the mouth again, causing Glorfindel to duck too late. He felt his hair wither from the fire, and he smelt burnt flesh. Gasping from the pain, Glorfindel flung himself at the beast again, Striking over and over again. A clawed foot reached out and grabbed the elf lord and held him suspended in the air. His body screamed from pain. He felt his body flair up in flames, but the adrenaline flying through his body, caused him to strike the beast again and again. Slicing his sword across the balrogs throat, they both fell. He knew this was his death, he had seen it in his dreams. His body afire, the pain unbearable, and Glorfindel felt his body break down, and he lost consciousness._

Glorfindel closed his eyes, and swallowed, he was not sure what his images had meant, but it was a sure sign from the Valar, that they intended him to remember at this very moment. He lifted his head when he heard branches snap, and he crouched down.

Snarling with rage, he felt his mouth form some words from his past. "Come you beasts, let us dance." An insane smile formed on his lips, and he felt the adrenaline pump through his veins.

Thranduil heard Glorfindel's small insane words, and sharply looked at the elf lord. "Let us dance?" He remarked. "I trust you are up for a battle then." Thranduil smirked. He turned his head towards the thicket, and pointed his sword in front of him as the first wave of orcs flew through the trees.

They were prepared for the first wave, and the second. However the orcs kept coming. Then without warning, a tall figure exited the safety of the trees, shrouded in black. Thranduil felt his blood freeze in fear. The figure was tall. Perhaps to his calculations roughly ten feet or more. The chills that emanated from the figure were something he was not prepared for. Glorfindel never once lost his insane smile. He glanced at the figure and his smile seemed to deepen.

The dark figure lifted white hands from beneath his cloak, and pulled down his cowl. It was Melkor. Thranduil felt his blood turn to ice.

"You were banished!" He cried in terror.

"Banished from Arda, great king? The dark lord has returned!" The beasts' whispered words cut into Thranduil's head forcefully.

Dropping his sword, Thranduil lifted his hands to his ears.

Glorfindel crouched lower to the ground and snarled. "You shall not have your way, Melkor!" He snarled and smirked at the same time.

The figure turned and looked at Glorfindel sharply. "I should know you, should I not? How is it you have come to be here?"

"Why not ask your brothers?" Glorfindel snarled. Gripping his sword tightly, Glorfindel leapt from his crouched position and struck at the black shrouded form of Melkor.

Taken by surprise at the rage that this elf portrayed, he stumbled back and screeched. Melkor lifted his hands above his head and called upon some dark magic.

"You wish to meet your end again, Gondolin elf?" Melkor grinned. "I will be more then happy to make your wishes my desire." The figure of Melkor seemed to grow in size and changed rapidly. To Glorfindel's horror, Melkor's body changed to one he thought he would never see again. He groaned, as he watched the body change into a balrog.


	15. Wonders Never Cease

**Chapter Fourteen Wonders Never Cease**

Thranduil stood there horrified as the Figure of Melkor changed into a large beast engulfed in flames. He quickly glanced at Glorfindel whose face had gone as white as a ghost. He saw the golden haired elf lord blanch and swallow hard. Gulping, Thranduil took a step back and held his sword in front of him protectively.

"_No!_" Glorfindel growled. "He is _mine_!" The balrog slayer charged forward and struck at the beast, slicing his sword through the air with practiced ease. A move Thranduil had never seen anyone perform before. The king of Mirkwood stood back dumbfounded as he watched.

Glorfindel's sword flew through the air aimed directly at the monsters throat, slicing across it quickly and accurately. The beast howled in rage, and flung his arms out knocking the golden haired elf to the ground.

Glorfindel felt his lungs heave trying to gain the air back, and he gasped with the effort. Pushing himself to his feet, he growled at the thing in an insane rage. Standing with his feet planted firmly on the ground, Glorfindel crouched low, taunting the monster. Grinning, he waved at the beast daring him to come forward.

The balrog charged forward, arms flying through the air. Glorfindel ducked stabbing his sword to his left as he did so, catching the beast in the side. The monster roared in fury and struck out with his tail, catching Glorfindel's feet, knocking him down onto his back. The tail raised and sharply lowered. Glorfindel rolled out of the way, his eyes darting to where the tail had just missed his head.

Jumping nimbly to his feet, Glorfindel swung his sword at the tail and cut it off. A screech of pain filled the air, and Glorfindel grinned again. Without missing a beat, Glorfindel sliced through the air with his sword, and struck once again at the beasts throat. A howl of rage, and anger filled his ears. The beast turned and knocked the elf lord back again. Glorfindel heard the familiar crack of ribs breaking, but ignored the burning sensation in his chest. Scrambling to his feet, Glorfindel charged the monster again. He stabbed at the monster with a right thrust, the beast seeing this turned to his right. Just as the golden haired elf lord had predicted, he pulled back his right thrust and switch it to a left, catching the best in the chest.

A screech of anger almost blew his eardrums, and he danced back out of the beasts reach. Wincing against the noise, Glorfindel was amazed that his ears could take so much.

Thranduil watched horrified at the battle that took place in front of him. Seeing Glorfindel battle this beast, was something he knew he would never forget. He had seen many battles, been in far too many. Watching in silence at the battle in front of him he knew he would never want to cross blades with the golden haired elf. If it had ever come to it, Thranduil knew instantly he would lay his sword at Glorfindel's feet and kneel before him. It was one battle, the king of Mirkwood knew he would never long for.

The skill Glorfindel used with the sword, made the King's guards seem like amateurs. The play and quickness that the sword danced to, showed Thranduil that this ancient art had been lost many years ago. Thranduil stepped back even more; to make sure he was completely out of the way of the fighting duo. There was no way he wanted to get in the middle of _that_ particular fight.

Glorfindel darted forward, twisting in mid air, and his sword singing with the force of his thrust. Taken by surprise, Melkor had no time to block the ferocious attack. As the sword connected with his midsection, he felt an overwhelming presence flood his mind confusing him more. With a cry of rage and pain, Melkor vanished into thin air.

Stumbling, Glorfindel fell to the earth, his sword flying out of his hand. Pushing himself onto his knees, the golden haired elf lord looked around him bewildered. He pushed himself to his feet and glanced back at Thranduil, almost accusingly, as if it were the king of Mirkwood who had made his foe disappear.

Holding his hands up, Thranduil raised his eyebrows. "Don't look at me!"

Shaking his head, Glorfindel chuckled. "My apologies. What happened?"

Shrugging, Thranduil glanced around the clearing. "I am uncertain. You struck him down it seems."

"No, something else did that." Glorfindel sighed.

Glorfindel looked at the injured party and made sure they were all right before turning to the king again. A black presence flooded his brain and he stopped quickly. Darkness quickly descended on them, and Glorfindel gasped from the heaviness that suddenly filled the forest. The golden haired elf lord stepped back from his position and pulled the king back with him.

"Evil grows." Glancing around him in horror, he raced to the immobile members of the camp. "Quickly, we must get out of here!" He shouted.

The air seemed to spark with intensity. Sizzling invisible fire wilted the trees around them. Thranduil gaped, stunned. The trees turned black withering under the touch of evil that was quickly spreading around them. The leaves turned blood red, some falling to the earth in misery. The lush bushes turned to death; leaves falling off them faster then the eye could follow. The healthy brown bark on the trees turned a murky greenish colour.

"_Valar!"_ Thranduil hissed. He spun around and quickly lifted Elrond into his arms. "Grab Elrohir, we must make haste."

Glorfindel gathered the small frail child into his arms, and spurted into a run after the king. "What of the others?"

"We will return for them, come!"

They raced through the now dying foliage quickly making their way to safety before the evil descended upon them.

* * *

Gandalf gasped suddenly, causing Celebrían to glance up worried. "What is it?" She cried.

Gandalf did not respond, only seemed to grow within the light surrounding him. The intensity of the glow caused Celebrían to shield her eyes. "Quickly, now." Gandalf whispered, watching the elves in his mind. "Make haste!"

"What _is_ it, Gandalf?" The golden haired woman shouted. The air grew thick, sizzling with power she had only experienced once in her life. Her mother once used power so great to hide the forest of Lothlorien from the world. If she thought she had been frightened then, she was terrified now. She felt the evil descend upon the house of her husband.

She wrapped her arms around her sons small frame and whispered a prayer to the Valar. Shivering from the sudden cold that seeped through her veins, Celebrían stood, placing her sons form back onto the ground carefully. Curling her lip in anger, she darted from the room without making a sound.

She raced down the stairs and out the front door. Celebrían wasn't sure where she was going, but looking to the sky and seeing black clouds looming above the forest on the borders of Rivendell, she knew that was where she would find her husband. She lifted her skirt and raced down the dirt path. The trees cried out to her to stop, but she ignored them. Instead she raced onward. She took a quick look at a small glittering pool as she raced past, and darted to the right onto another path.

Celebrían broke through the trees and stopped quickly, gasping at the darkness that loomed in front of her. Catching her breath in her throat, she looked to her right and saw a river. Looking past the river she caught sight of a tower from the old wing of her home. Turning her eyes forward again, she noticed the blackness engulfing the forest.

Crying out, she raced forward. She caught sight of someone breaking through the forest, and noticed it to be Glorfindel and the king. She ran even harder towards them. Celebrían caught sight of who they were carrying and gave out a cry.

"Lady, you should not be here!" Glorfindel shook his head, handing Elrohir to her.

She gathered her son into her arms and knelt down rocking back and forth, tears falling from her blue eyes. Thranduil walked up beside her and lowered Elrond beside her. "Stay here. We will return, there are more within." Without another word, Glorfindel and Thranduil raced back into the woods.

She silently sat there, her right arm wrapped protectively around her son, and her left hand sitting on her husbands chest. Her eyes travelled towards the forest and horrified, she watched as blackness descended upon it engulfing its entirety with its evil.


	16. Darkness Befalls

**Chapter Fifteen Darkness Befalls **

Celebrían watched horrified as the darkness enveloped the once lush green woods before her. The trees wailed their protests as they felt pain and anguish. Shivering, she lowered her head kissing her sons battered forehead. The small child in her arms whimpered softly, his eyes scrunched closed tightly. Taking a deep breath, she began humming a song to him; one that she knew he loved. Elrohir stopped his moans and his features eased their tension.

Celebrían tried to block out the painful wails of the trees, and somehow her song seemed to ease the trees pain somewhat. As she hummed, she felt tears fill her eyes as the trees joined into her song, in hopes of forgetting the evil that was befalling them.

She lifted her head and glanced at the trees again. Thranduil and Glorfindel raced from the trees again, both carrying charges that had been left inside. Their faces were flushed with the effort of carrying as many as they could, being four. One was across Thranduil's shoulders, while another was being carried in his arms. Glorfindel dragged one, who appeared to be conscious, and another shoved over his right shoulder carelessly.

Celebrían stood up quickly, laying Elrohir's head gently onto the earth. The elven men laid their charges down and nodded once to her racing back across the field and into the dark woods quickly. Shaking her head, she noticed the many wounds the elves beside her had. The one awake turned his blue eyes to her and winced as he nodded in greeting.

She knelt beside him and brushed back his matted blond hair whispering to him softly. "What is your name?"

"Gwindor." He coughed slightly.

Nodding, she grabbed the hem of her dress and began wiping the blood off his face. She heard shouts of alarm, and she looked up quickly. Feeling her mouth drop open in surprise, she saw some of Thranduil's men come charging out of Rivendell towards her.

A young elf raced up to her and smiled briefly. She smiled at the healer and felt new tears well up in her eyes. "Sîralda." She smiled in greeting.

"Greetings, milady." He flashed a smile at her trying to give her courage. "Easy, let us tend to the wounded." He knelt beside Elrond and allowed his eyes to scan over the elf lord quickly. Looking up, he waved the guards who had accompanied him towards the woods. "Go! Do not just stand there. Thranduil will need your aid." He shouted.

Celebrían smiled slightly at the command the healer gave the guards. He was flawless. His honey blond hair tied expertly back into tiny braids. His green eyes shinning with mirth. Siralda caught her blue eyes with his green ones and she saw amusement flicker behind them. He saw the helplessness in her eyes, and he frowned raising his hand to rest on her shoulder.

"Fear not, milady. All is well. Help me bind their wounds." He smiled, taking his healing bag off his shoulders quickly. Sîralda took his flask off his shoulders also and poured some water into a small metal cup he had pulled from his healing bag. Quickly rifling through the bag, he found a small green colored pouch and tapped a few crushed leaves into the cup. Stirring the contents of the cup with his finger, he gently lifted Elrond's head and poured a few drops of the liquid into the elf lords mouth, rubbing his throat to aid his swallowing.

"What is that?" She asked holding her husbands hand.

"It helps ease the pain." The healer looked up quickly hearing voices shout in warning. He narrowed his eyes seeing his friend Thranduil run from the woods carrying more injured. More broke through the woods carrying others. Sîralda noted that they ran as if they were being chased by something.

Thranduil approached them and met his healers eyes. "It is good to see you my friend."

"And I you. Are you injured?" Sîralda asked his eyes walking over Thranduil's body quickly.

Shaking his head, he lowered the elf in his arms to the ground. He stood to head back into the woods, but Sîralda shook his head firmly. "Sit Thranduil. There are more then enough guards to aid the rest out of those woods."

The king threw his friend a glare. "My men are in there."

"As I said. We have enough aid to guide them out safely." Sîralda pointed to the ground sharply. "I feared the worst when your messenger raced into Mirkwood with all haste, bearing a verbal message from you."

Thranduil nodded, and glanced at the woods.

"Thranduil!" Sîralda warned, wrapping Elrond's wounds carefully.

The kings head turned back to his friend slowly, eyes narrowed.

Shaking his head firmly Sîralda gritted his teeth. "Your kingly looks do not work upon me, my friend. I have known you far too long for it to have any effect on my person."

Thranduil chuckled; he lifted Elrohir's head and started wiping the dirt and grime off the childs face, with a soft damp cloth Sîralda handed him. "What about Glorfindel?"

"What about him?" Sîralda retorted.

"He is still within those woods. He will need help. Something evil grows there." Thranduil felt himself shudder with memory of the blackness that had filled his mind as he raced from the woods clutches.

"Of that I am certain by the way the trees cry in pain. Glorfindel is a trained warrior, Thranduil, I trust that he will come out in one piece."

Shaking his head, Thranduil did not argue further. He knew Sîralda would render him unconscious should he attempt to slip back into those woods. Silently, they bound the wounds of the elves beside them, and more kept coming. Finally, Glorfindel raced from the woods, his face pale, and covered in grit. His blond hair was now greyish in colour covered in dust.

Walking through the field, he looked over his shoulder at the now blackened woods in sadness. Glorfindel approached the king and Celebrían silently, and knelt beside them his eyes filled with overwhelming emotions.

Thranduil gripped his shoulder tightly, and nodded. "Are all out safely?"

Glorfindel nodded. "The trees no longer hear the music of the elves. They can only hear their cries of pain, filled with grief and loneliness."

Thranduil nodded. "We need to carry the injured back to Rivendell quickly. Preparations need to be made for the rebuilding of this once beautiful valley."

Glorfindel inched his way over to Elrond slowly. He gripped Celebrían's hand tightly in his own and kissed her hand. "How is he?" The golden haired elf asked quietly.

"Why must you talk as though I am not here?" Elrond muttered hoarsely.

Celebrían and Glorfindel both choked back their comments. "Elrond?" His wife asked carefully, fresh tears welling up in her eyes.

"What happened?" Elrond asked attempting to rise, but strong hands pushed him back down.

"Lay still." Glorfindel commanded gently. "You are injured and need to keep your strength."

"What strength?" Elrond muttered with a soft chuckle. He lifted himself onto his elbows and pointed to the woods. "I left what strength I had in there. Valar, I feel so weak."

Glorfindel shook his head, a smile pulling at his lips. "Could be the amount of blood you lost, Elrond. Or the concern you have for others before yourself. Or the fear for your sons, or-"

"I get the picture." Elrond glared at the elf lord.

Glorfindel smiled, and winked. "I believe you will be alright."

"Elrohir?" Elrond asked squeezing his wife's hand tightly looking around him worried.

"Sîralda is tending his wounds now."

"Sîralda?" Elrond asked his eyebrows rising quickly.

"Greetings once again, Elrond." The healer laughed.

"I thought you were in Mirkwood?" Elrond frowned.

Nodding, he grinned. "I was, I received word that I was needed here."

Elrond frown deepened. "How long have I been out of it?"

Pursing his lips, Sîralda glanced at Thranduil. "It has been awhile, Elrond. That does not matter now, what matters is tending the wounded, and rebuilding your home."

A new voice caused them all to turn their heads. "First the evil must be contained within the woods of Gur."

"Gandalf?" Elrond gasped. "Gur?"

The wizard proceeded through the field, past the group of elves on the ground, and towards the woods that now screamed in anguish. The wizard disappeared into the woods, causing the elves to gasp audibly.

"What?" Elrond looked around him trying to get to his feet.

Sîralda narrowed his eyes. "Remain where you are, Elrond."

"But-" He started to protest.

"Do I need to give you a sleeping drought?" Sîralda threatened.

Elrond glared at the healer.

"I thought so."

* * *

Days passed, and no sign of Gandalf had been seen since he had disappeared into the woods. Elrond became worried, as did the other elves, but no one dared enter the woods after the Wizard. The wounded had been carried back to Rivendell, the journey long and tedious. Those who were not injured in the quake had begun setting up beds outside in the courtyard.

Elrond lifted himself up onto his elbows looking around at the massive amounts of bedrolls, blankets and litters that held vast amounts of his people. Only a select few had been lucky enough to come out of the quake unscathed, and the rest had been rendered unconscious, or seriously injured by it. Looking around him, Elrond noticed his two sons on a litter, covered in pillows, and blankets. Wincing, as he stood up, Elrond limped over to his sons' side, and looked down at them.

Elrohir had his head wrapped tightly. His face was now clean of any blood and dirt. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Elrond began moving from one elf to another, seeing to their wounds personally, despite his own. A hand on his shoulder caused him to turn and look at the new comer.

Sîralda smiled. "You should be resting." The blond haired elf looked weary. Dark circles were under his eyes, and his face too pale then normal.

Elrond frowned but nodded. "It appears you should be also."

Sîralda chuckled. "I will once I have tended to all the injured, I am lucky enough to have a little help from your apprentices, and from a new healer that has come out of the dark."

"Who?" Elrond asked, allowing Sîralda to guide him back to the small bedroll he had been lying on.

"Suiren." The healer grinned. "It appears that Thranduil's newest guard has a talent for healing. Certainly more powerful then I."

Elrond bit his lip and nodded. "How are the others?"

Sîralda sighed. "Depends on which others? There have been many deaths, Elrond. Not nearly as many as could have been, but enough."

"Galathil? Figwit? Elladan? My wife? Erestor? Glorfindel?" Elrond began listing off elves on his fingers. "Shall I go on?"

Sîralda laughed. "They are all well. Fear not Elrond, they are being taken care of." The healer patted Elrond's shoulder comfortingly. "Rest, you will be needed before long, my old friend."

A low rumble reached their ears, causing them to freeze in mid sentence. Sîralda felt a tremor beneath his feet and he glanced down quickly. As quickly as it had come, it was gone, and the healer looked into Elrond's eyes quickly.

Elrond swallowed. Before he could speak, his eldest son began thrashing on the litter he was situated on, causing Sîralda to hiss sharply. Spinning around on his heels, he came to the childs side pinning him down.

Elladan's eyes opened and fear emanated from them. He opened his mouth to speak but no words escaped. Tears came to his eyes, and they darted around fearfully.

"Shush, little one. All is well." Sîralda whispered gently. Elrond appeared by his side, and placed his hand on his sons forehead.

"Ro?" Came the weak thready question.

Elrond smiled. "Right beside you. He is well, Elladan. Rest, and before you know it, you both will be racing around again."

The little eyes closed, and he fell into a healing slumber. Elrond shook his head. "Where is my wife?"

Sîralda pointed to where she was helping Figwit into a sitting position to drink from a goblet she held. "She has been helping all morning."

Elrond nodded and limped over to her side.

Sîralda sighed; somehow, without knowing how, he knew that the evil was still abroad. The feeling of darkness loomed all around them, and he gulped nervously as another tremor fluttered beneath his feet. "What ever evil has dwindled in this place, I hope you can defeat it Gandalf." The healer whispered.

Sîralda almost jumped out of his skin when a hand came down on his shoulder. "Evil has been contained for now, healer."

Spinning around, he looked at Gandalf with wide eyes. "For the love of the Valar, don't do that!"

Gandalf chuckled. "Do what young one?"

Sîralda snorted. "What happened here?"

Gandalf looked around. "The beginning of great evil that has been waiting to present itself at the appropriate time."

Raising an eyebrow, Sîralda waited.

Gandalf smiled and turned away, laying his head on the forehead of Elrohir. The wizard did not say anything more, but walked around the scattered beds speaking softly to the elves who were awake, and those who were still rendered unconscious.

Shaking his head, Sîralda walked over to Galathil who was beginning to stir. The lessons master opened his eyes and groggily looked up into the blue sky. Allowing a startled exclamation, he attempted to rise.

"I would not do that unless you feel like injuring yourself further."

Galathil glanced at the voice and felt a smile drift across his face. "Brother!"

Sîralda grinned. "Greetings, and well met." The two brothers gripped their arms and smiled broadly. "How do you feel?"

"Horrible. What are you doing here?"

"Looking after you, as I have always done little brother."

Galathil snorted. "Little indeed."

Sîralda grinned widely. "I grow tired of having to always come to your aid. I would think you would be of an age where you would look after yourself."

"Indeed. Somehow I think you like looking after me. It gives you a sense of accomplishment."

"Really?" Sîralda scoffed. "Rest, little brother. I shall come back later and reminisce about the years we have missed."


	17. In the Ruins there is Hope

**Chapter Sixteen In the Ruins There is Hope **

He sat on the boulder pondering the problem at hand. Somehow, things were not going according to plan and caused the building process to halt. Shaking his head, he sighed. His children were healing with all speed, but he was still worried about his youngest who still remained unconscious. Standing, he wandered over to the small beds where his sons were. Elladan was currently sitting up drinking water to quench his thirst. His eyes were red, and swollen from lack of proper sleep.

The droughts Elrond had given him were no longer helping to ease the pain, and he had to be careful now with how much he administered, or he would have a problem of weaning his son off the pain killers. The other problem was, Elladan was not sleeping anymore with their aid, only keeping him awake. The black circles under Elladan's eyes were prominent now, giving his eyes a larger appearance then normal.

Elrohir remained unconscious, tossing fitfully in his unnatural sleep, causing more pain then the child should be allowed to tolerate. Even the herbs and healing aids, Elrond gave Elrohir were no longer helping, but also creating more of a problem. They were preventing Elrohir's natural healing ability to fully restore itself, causing the boys wounds to become irritated and infected.

Elrond placed his hand on Elladan's back, and rubbed it gently. Elladan turned and attempted a smile, which Elrond noticed was forced. Nodding his head, Elrond helped ease Elladan onto the bedroll again, and sighed again.

"Ada?" Elladan whispered hoarsely.

Elrond looked down at his son, and smiled lightly. "Yes Elladan?"

"Ro?"

'Of course.' Elrond thought. 'He would be concerned about his brother above his own pain.' Elrond smile broadened. "Rest, Elrohir will be fine."

Elladan shook his head. "Not enough."

Elrond felt his forehead crease. "What isn't enough?"

Elladan struggled for words. "He hurts."

Elrond nodded sadly. "I know, but Elladan, he cannot have anymore herbs to help him."

Elladan nodded, and tears came to his eyes. His whispered words fell on deaf ears. "I hurt too."

Elrond turned feeling a hand on his shoulder. "Sîralda." He nodded in greeting.

"How are they?" The healer asked smiling.

Elrond shook his head waving his hand for Sîralda to follow. Gripping the healers arm he pulled him in close. "Is there nothing more we can do for Elrohir?"

Sîralda glanced over at the twins and frowned. Shaking his head, he sighed. "Elrond, I would love to give them both more herbs, but I fear Elrohir would not be able to handle the potency in his current condition. When he wakes, then I will be able to discern his condition more thoroughly. Right now, we must take comfort. His healing ability has kicked in, not as strongly as I would like, but it is there. I cannot give him more until I know how serious his head wound is." Sîralda paused, looking at Elrond hard. "Elladan has already had more then he can take. If he is given more he will rely on it rather then his own healing abilities. We both have faced war and wounds, you know there is only so much we can do."

Elrond nodded understanding fully. He felt torn. His sons injuries caused him more pain then his own. Sighing, he raised his blue eyes to Sîralda's again. "I know, I only wish them to sleep in comfort. Elrohir has been tossing and turning since his legs were set."

"Well, we know he is healing, and a certain amount of pain reminds one that he or she is still alive. Go rest, Elrond. You look terrible."

Elrond twisted his lips in a tight smile. "You haven't rested in over a week, when will you sleep?"

"I will sleep when I am done with my tasks here, I am still able to function fully. Rest Elrond, that is not a request." Sîralda commanded pointing to a bedroll.

Elrond glared at the healer, but nodded and walked away.

Sîralda turned and looked over the mass amounts of beds scattered throughout the courtyard. He caught sight of Thranduil sitting under a tree and went to join him.

Thranduil nodded in the healers direction waving him to sit, and Sîralda complied.

"I am glad you have some persuasion here." Thranduil smiled.

Sîralda nodded, looking over the healing grounds. "For the moment. Elrond does not like being told what to do. I seem to remember another who dislikes it almost as much as he does."

Thranduil chuckled. "I think you like it more then you let on." The king gripped his friends shoulder. "I trust you, and your opinions, therefore I am only mentioning this to you before someone else does. You indeed have not rested since your arrival, it has been twelve days." Thranduil looked at the healer hard. "I know your limitations, however if you do not rest soon, I will have to explain to your brother why you collapsed from exhaustion. I do not wish to explain myself to Galathil."

Sîralda chuckled. "Leave Galathil to me, if he gives you trouble, I will cuff his ears like I did when he was a naked insolent child. I will rest soon, Thranduil, you have my word."

The king nodded. "I will hold you to that. Galathil is like your mother, kind hearted, but skilled with a sharp bite, which I have yet to come into contact with. I would like to keep it that way."

Sîralda sighed. "Alright, I will take some rest now. Indeed I am weary, however if anything should happen, wake me immediately."

Thranduil nodded curtly. He watched his good friend lay on a bedroll and closed his eyes. The king chuckled. "Weary indeed, my friend. You are exhausted." Smiling to himself as he watched the healers breath even out into sleep, he caught sight of Galathil watching him intently. Raising an eyebrow, he watched Galathil struggle to sit up and slide off his bedroll. He waited patiently as Galathil limped over to him.

"You should be resting, lessons master." Thranduil scolded.

Galathil sat beside him silently for a moment, allowing his eyes to linger on his brothers sleeping body, before turning his eyes to the king. "I have rested enough. Whatever you said to make him rest, you have my thanks."

Thranduil remained silent.

"How are the others?" Galathil asked softly.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow. "They are healing, Galathil. Resting and listening to the healers words for remaining on their bedrolls."

Galathil nodded, ignoring the point Thranduil threw at him. "How has Sîralda taken to his new home?"

The king smiled. "Sîralda has the respect of the elves. He has made himself at home in Mirkwood. You miss him don't you?"

"Are you kidding? Gets him out of my hair being in your realm." Galathil grinned.

"Who are you trying to fool, young one? We have company." Thranduil nodded towards two other elves making their way over to them.

Galathil grinned seeing Figwit and Erestor in their usual debate, and shook his head. "You two are worse then siblings!"

Figwit flashed a bright smile at him sitting down on the grass. Erestor narrowed his eyes. "Funny."

"Quite." Thranduil leaned back on the rock, enjoying the bright sunshine. He caught sight of movement out of the corner of his eye and he focused on the squinting eyes of Sîralda watching them in annoyance. "Sleep healer!" Thranduil commanded. "They are fine."

They chuckled hearing the irritated growl of the healer as he rolled over on his bedroll. Thranduil caught a brief curse before silence. Galathil shrugged laughing. "He will not sleep. He will lay there and listen because he knows we are talking about him now."

There was another hiss of curses from the healers bed.

Galathil laughed brightly. "He is such a nuisance." The lessons master missed the wad of gauze that flew at him hitting him squarely on the forehead. Gaping in stunned surprise, he sat there and stared at the gauze curiously.

Galathil heard a snort from the bedroll and closed his mouth. He picked up the gauze and chucked it back at his brother.

Thranduil rolled his eyes. "Here we go." He sighed. Sîralda sat up and glared at his brother. Turning his gaze onto the king he smiled sweetly. "For one who told me to sleep, it has been definitely a challenge to attempt such a feat. If you wish for me to rest, them please allow me to do so, ere I go back to work." Flopping down on his roll again, he threw the gauze at the king. Hitting the king on the chest, he rolled over silently laughing at the stunned expression that crossed his features.

"Oh, yes. Indeed." Thranduil grinned mischievously. Placing his finger to his lips, the king of Mirkwood stood up and walked over to the healer, picking up a bucket of water on his way.

Galathil placed his hand over his mouth to cover his laughter. Thranduil stood directly above Sîralda, and poured the water onto his unsuspecting body. The healer jumped up in surprise and glanced at the king in shock. With a growl, Sîralda tackled the king, and both began a game of wits.

Galathil roared with laughter, as Figwit and Erestor stared at the two elves wrestling on the ground. Figwit turned his blue eyes to the lessons master and smiled. "This was your doing, you know that right?"

Galathil howled harder. "I believe I need to find a place to hide for a few days." He stood quickly. "If you'll excise me." Glancing at the king and his brother on the ground, he turned and limped off towards the stables, hoping there was something still intact to hide in.

Erestor shook his head watching the lessons master flee. "Do you think he will find somewhere to hide?"

Figwit pursed his lips thinking. Smiling quickly he shook his head, and winked. Standing, Figwit silently began his pursuit of the lessons master. Erestor groaned and also stood up, leaving the king and healer to their wrestling. "This is going to be a long day." Erestor sighed.

* * *

His eyelids felt really heavy. Almost as though there were weights attached to them preventing him from opening his eyes. Finally, Elrohir opened them and looked blurrily at the sky, and blinked rapidly trying to clear them. He felt instant pain in his head, and he whimpered. A cool hand touched his forehead and he heard a voice try and talk to him. Frowning, he blinked again trying to focus on the dark form that leaned over him, his ears seemed to be stuffed with something preventing him from hearing anything.

Frightened, he whimpered again. Finally a soft voice along with the words penetrated his ears, and he felt comforted at once. "Easy, my son. Slowly."

Elrohir looked up at his father and tried to smile. His lips hurt and he sniffed. He was lifted into a sitting position carefully, and he moaned against the tight feeling in his chest. Something cool touched his lips and slipped into his throat. He coughed as it went down. He found it hard to swallow, and more liquid dripped into his mouth easing the rawness.

He was placed back down and a cool cloth was applied onto his head. He tried to smile again, but instantly he frowned. Gasping, he tried to form words on his mouth, but nothing came out. Only a harsh sound resonated through his brain and he winced.

"Easy Elrohir." A soft voice soothed. "Elladan is right beside you." He felt his hand being lifted into a larger one. It was placed down slowly, and it was gripped in a smaller hand. Instantly, Elrohir knew it was his brothers hand. Feeling at ease he felt his lips form a smile, and his eyes slipped closed.

Elladan grinned widely, as his brothers hand tightened weakly against his. "Is he alright now ada?"

Elrond smiled and nodded slowly. "He needs a lot of rest, but now that he has awakened, it will make things easier. Go back to sleep Elladan."


	18. Never According to Plan

**Chapter Seventeen Never According to Plan**

No matter how hard he tried, things were not falling into place as he wished. Elrond groaned in defeat. He remembered the week prior when his son had finally opened his eyes, though hazy; Elrohir had managed to fight off the terrible pain and infection, and was healing with all speed. Even his legs now were rid of their casts, his head still bruised, but the yellowish hue was signally full recovery. To his relief, there were no signs of prolonged injury, and certainly no cracked skull, which had been the major concern for two weeks.

Elrond turned around and chuckled at the sight that had been the amusement for the past few days. Galathil had been dragged into the camp site by his brother, kicking and fighting, only to be tied firmly to a wooden chair. He sat there glaring at his brothers back, wondering when he would be allowed freedom.

Figwit was currently having yet another debate with Erestor on the rebuilding plans of their home. Erestor stood there with his arms crossed firmly over his chest shaking his head protesting with snarled words. Glorfindel stood off to the side with a small wry smile playing on his lips, and currently rolling his eyes at the scene. Celebrían was seated beside her sons reciting a story as they prepared for bed.

Gandalf was sitting nearby his face scrunched up in concentration mulling over the evil that had spread to Rivendell's borders. Sîralda was in an argument with another patient who kept informing him he was fine. The healer gave no indications of backing down from the argument and the patient finally gave up flopping back onto his bedroll in a frustrated growl.

Thranduil was seated peacefully under a tree nursing his bruises from his previous wrestling match with Sîralda. They had kept up the playful fights for an entire week before Thranduil had bested the healer. Sîralda had his own wounds, nothing extremely serious, but he was definitely careful with chewing since he had received an elbow to the jaw. Elrond remembered the stunned expression on the others faces when the king and healer had begun their wrestling matches, which had been in good fun, mostly a contest of wills. They had gaped when the healer had flung the king over his shoulder two days previous expecting Thranduil to become angry, however the reaction had been all but the opposite. Thranduil had laid flat on his back looking up at the sky catching his breath, and then roared with laughter the emotion flooding over everyone easing the tension that had built.

Elrond grinned remembering the joys that had finally been allowed to flow over them after the last few weeks, and had felt relieved, up until this point. Now he stood there thinking over his anger, which had been directed at his eldest who had suddenly decided to use words unbecoming a small child. Elladan had argued with his father quite forcefully, surprising Elrond to the core.

The boy had only wanted to lay next to his brother, but Elrond refused it. In his mind his sons were of an age where they should be in separate beds as they were growing into gangly elven children. Elladan had been angry and actually glared at his father. Throwing his glares right at him. Elrond had never dealt with his children being angry or upset towards him or his wife, so it had come as a shock. At first, Elrond had stood there gaping at his son, who was no more then nine years old according to elven terms. After the initial shock wore off, the elf lord had narrowed his eyes and actually barked at his son, almost using hurtful words, but he had restrained himself.

What had made matters worse is that he had actually frightened both his sons with his anger and now he regretted his outburst. Elrohir had whimpered, reaching out his hand catching his brothers gripping it tightly, adding his support to Elladan. Celebrían had taken her husbands side and had scolded her eldest son. Both boys now sat there, once their mother had left, whispering to each other frantically. Elrond knew he was the topic of the conversation. However, his son had no place to yell at his father, let alone be insolent. He sighed heavily.

Turning away from his sons, he looked back over his home that lay in ruins. The building was slow, certainly would not be made ready in time for the fall season, and that worried Elrond immensely. The air became chilled once fall hit, and many of the children were not used to residing outdoors in the cold of night. What caused Elrond even more worry was that there were scarcely any children left after the devastating quake, and many of the parents had fallen into grief over their childs loss.

Some parents had decided to travel to Valinor, actually causing Elrond near panic. It had never really hit him until they had mentioned it to him. He, of course had given them his approval, never once refusing them future peace. What had been a once relaxing environment with nearly thirty children, had now turned to a place of misery and grief, with only twelve known children left alive. Many of his guards had died trying to save others, the loss being near forty. His staff, once at a large number of near eighty, was now only thirty-four. The residents were also dwindled in number. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Elrond sighed.

Only a portion of his house would be completed by falls end, and winter would show itself, leaving many homeless. Thranduil had offered to take many back to Mirkwood until the spring when they could resume the building of Rivendell. Too many were far seriously injured to attempt to help in the rebuilding, and those were only had few injuries helped out as much as they could. Much to Sîralda's annoyance.

Somehow, he knew they would prevail. They would survive, and they would certainly liven up. Elrond only wished the air was not so tense. Shaking his head, he glanced over his shoulder at his sons again. The stress had caused him to yell at his children, even though in truth he knew they needed each others support despite the fact they were growing up. Elrond didn't want to believe that his young sons would be in full training next spring. It sparked a bit of fear in him. He remembered their junior training lessons, it had gone well. They had learned a lot of skills, and now they would go into beginners lessons with Maron.

Maron was skilled with anything he put his mind to. Trained by the balrog slayer himself, Maron had earned Elrond's attention when the elf had been able to fend off Glorfindel's skilled attacks with incredible accuracy. The elf was certainly trained enough to teach his sons with the weapons they would learn in spring.

Maron had long silver hair with hundreds of tiny elegant braids. The elf had green eyes, was tall and well built from his skilled use of the sword. He had once lived in Lothlorien before his parents had been killed in a hunt. It had been a stupid accident, but the boy could not come to terms with what had happened, therefore had been sent to Rivendell for a chance at life. Glorfindel had taken the child under his wing. This had caused Elrond some amusement, but learned years ago that Glorfindel had personally known the parents of the small boy.

Maron had been a feisty child, getting into mischief whenever he could. He had even gotten the better of his keeper, Glorfindel with a bucket of flour above his chamber door. The boy had fought with Glorfindel constantly whenever he could, mostly because the child had known it to irritate the balrog slayer to his core. Bathing had always been a challenge, but once Maron grew up into adulthood, reaching his majority, most of the childs spunk had left him. It was on a hunt on the outskirts of Rivendell when the child had become solemn. The party had been attacked by orcs, being captured. The elf had sustained much torment until Glorfindel had rescued him.

Maron had earned himself a well-earned scar along his cheek leading up to his hairline, and down to the bottom of his chin. The white scar stood out despite his abilities to heal, and left its trail down his torso. The elf had never smiled since that day. He had lost his friends in the torture, having to watch the orcs invade them and facilitate their cruel tactics.

Elrond knew Maron well, he was friends with Glorfindel, and so he knew that the elf took his utmost care with the elven children, teaching them the finer points of sword use. He also knew that Maron was not an easy teacher, he knew the elven childrens limits and pushed them hard. It was through this alone that Elrond had received many well-trained guards, ones who would not tire easily in battle, and war. Thus leaving, Elrond satisfied that his sons would become great warriors in the years to come.

He turned away from staring at his house, and came face to face with Gandalf who stood there smiling at him. Elrond grinned. "What?"

"Nothing young one." Gandalf replied his smile growing. "Fear not, your children will forget their anger and forgive you."

Elrond nodded and hoped the wizard was right. "I am not certain if I should apologize, Elladan was wrong to challenge me in a battle of wits, but I was also wrong to snap at him like I did."

Gandalf nodded in agreement. "You both were at fault. However the stress has been great and many are pushed to their limits."

"Indeed. There has been much, but we pulled through this right?"

Gandalf frowned shaking his head sadly. "Evil still lingers, Elrond. Until I gather further information on the appearance of this evil, please refrain from anyone entering those woods."

Elrond furrowed his brows.

"The evil is contained. It shall remain so until I have discovered where this evil dwells. Your people are safe here in the Valley, but not in those woods." Gandalf walked away silently, leaving Elrond once more to ponder his thoughts. Things were not going according to plan, but he knew they would triumph, and would continue on with their lives, until the next challenge earned their attention.

Smiling, Elrond walked over to his sons bedrolls, and sat down next to them, watching their peaceful expressions in sleep. One thing he knew, was that his family was safe, the other was that he was allowed at least a few more years with his sons, despite the fact they were mischievous little imps. He hoped that they would grow to be respectably elf lords, hardened warriors, and kind hearted to everything that surrounded them despite the many grave challenges they had already been forced to face in their small and short lives. Elrond knew that they would come across other challenges he could see it. Being as reckless as they were, it was only a matter of time before he was faced yet again with fear over an injury, or possible death. The elf lord only hoped that it would be a long while before anything as drastic as that would present itself again. Leaning back in his chair, he allowed himself to finally rest peacefully for the first time in weeks, and waited patiently for life to continue as it once had.


End file.
